Harry Potter and the Hands of Justice
by Ian Hycrest
Summary: One year ago, Harry Potter learned that he was a wizard. One month ago, he learned that the man who murdered his parents was still alive and trying to regain a body. Now, as ancient threats surface, Harry must prepare to fight against the dark lord. Unfortunately, Voldemort is not the only one who will stand in his way. Book 2 of The Cry of Freedom. Updates every Tuesday.
1. The story thus far

_*** The following summary contains spoilers from the previous book – Harry Potter and the Vault of Time. You should probably read that first. ***_

_The story thus far…_

_(To get the full experience, read while listening to 'Carry on my Wayward Son', by Kansas) _

_During his first trip to Gringotts, Harry discovers a small box with a few odds and ends from his parents. He randomly grabs one item, a small wooden box, and later finds that it is, in fact, a shrunken trunk. Inside the trunk is a vanishing cabinet that can be used to access a small training facility his parents had built, where time goes much faster than normal._

_Taking advantage of this opportunity to learn some magic on his own before starting Hogwarts, Harry spends his nights in the facility, and, in addition to studying, begins to read his mother's diary. He learns that his parents had been a bit suspicious of Dumbledore, and so, wanting to learn more, he returns to Diagon Alley. He meets Florean Fortescue, a kind old man who owns an ice-cream shop. Florean confirms some of Harry's concerns, and encourages him to keep his eyes open when he goes to Hogwarts to avoid being fooled by Dumbledore's manipulations._

_Harry is not overly impressed with the classes at Hogwarts, especially Potions, where the professor seems to be going out of his way to pick on Harry. After Harry is punished for fighting in the halls (while defending himself from Malfoy and his goons), he is shunned and isolated. He eventually quits the Quidditch team. At the end of the year, Harry realizes that someone is trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone from the forbidden corridor, so he, Neville and Hermione try to protect it. They make it through the obstacles, but Harry is the only one to enter the final room. He discovers that the would-be thief is Quirrell, who is possessed by Voldemort. He manages to kill Quirrell, but wanting to avoid possible punishment, deliberately injures himself and takes a potion to temporarily erase the memory._

_His deception works. Dumbledore has no idea that Harry has recovered the Stone from the mirror. Now, realizing that Voldemort is still around, Harry is determined to prepare for the war to come. But whatever he does, he'll need to be careful to keep it a secret, because he's still not sure how much he can trust the headmaster…_


	2. Chapter 1: The Long Summer

_Disclaimer: I own nothing_

* * *

The Cry of Freedom

Book 2: Harry Potter and the Hands of Justice

_It's difficult to try to put into words just how much we all trusted and relied on Albus Dumbledore. He was our leader, our counselor, our guide. For decades, he had shaped magical society, to the point that to many people, the idea of defying him was unimaginable. And yet, he was careful to never be too overt, at least not until the end. All it required was a word here, a suggestion there… and like the master manipulator that he was, Dumbledore ensured that no one truly knew how much he did behind the scenes. _

_His was a soft power, subtly swaying those who held actual authority to follow his chosen path. Still, with such a wide base of people who were convinced that he could do no wrong, he was able to wield an astounding amount of influence, ensuring that things went as he desired. His suggestions were treated like divine guidance. Looking back, we should have been more suspicious. We should have questioned why someone who had such power didn't use it to solve the corruption he claimed to oppose. We should have asked why he felt the need to meddle in matters that were, quite frankly, none of his business. But at the time, that was just the way that things were._

_Perhaps the most disturbing thing is how people responded when his manipulations were detected. On those rare occasions when the subtle methods failed and he had to take direct action, or when his 'innocent' ideas produced an outcome that no sane person could possibly accept, Dumbledore would play the part of the weary old man, weighed down by cares, struggling to do his best against forces beyond his control. And like fools, we all believed him. How could we have been so blind?_

_I do not say this in an attempt to excuse those of us who followed Dumbledore. I, like so many others, made my choice, and the punishments that I have received have been fair and just. There's not a day that goes by that I do not wish I could go back and change what happened. But such things are not possible. _

_\- Excerpt from the memoirs of Kingsley Shacklebolt_

* * *

Chapter 1: The Long Summer

Harry Potter was not a normal boy. Normal boys do not have a pet owl. Normal boys do not fly on broomsticks. And normal boys certainly do not routinely dose their family members with powerful behavior modifying substances. _But sometimes, you just gotta do what you gotta do,_ Harry thought, whistling cheerfully as he added the Unctuous Unction to the soup he had prepared for supper.

It didn't require much of the potent potion to cause the Dursleys to think he was a beloved member of the family. And even though Harry knew that it was fake, it still felt nice when his Aunt complimented him on what a kind, helpful boy he was, or when Dudley told off one of his friends for insulting Harry. While in years past, he would be required to complete a long list of chores every day, now he only had to spend a few minutes tidying up, and of course, make supper once a week to ensure the Dursleys got the proper dose of what Harry had taken to mentally calling, "friend juice".

Yes, all in all, things were going well for Harry with the other inhabitants of #4 Privet Drive. Unfortunately, he couldn't say the same with respect to his friends, neither of whom had sent him any mail since summer began several weeks ago. Harry frowned at that thought, but pushed it aside. There was nothing he could do about it, anyway. He'd tried sending letters to Neville and Hermione, but there had been no response. It might not even be their fault.

Harry was famous in the wizarding world, though he hadn't known that until just a year ago. But now that he knew, he couldn't help but wonder why he didn't have more people writing him. After all, for the first few weeks of school, all the other students had been whispering and pointing every time they passed him in the halls. If he was that much of a celebrity, surely people should have sent him letters, or something. Which meant that someone (_Dumbledore,_ his mind cynically suggested) had done something so that he wasn't getting any mail.

He focused his thoughts on the present as he carried the bowls of soup over to the kitchen table. His uncle smiled broadly as he sniffed the food. "Well done, lad. This smells delicious."

"It certainly does," Aunt Petunia agreed. Dudley probably would have agreed as well, but he was already shoveling food into his mouth at a rate that would make even Ron Weasley stare in shock.

"So, does anyone have anything special they will be doing this week?" Aunt Petunia asked as she grabbed the calendar that normally hung on the wall. "Let's plan now so that we aren't scrambling later."

Harry finished chewing and hastily swallowed a bite of garlic bread. "Well, I need to go to Diagon Alley to get some things for school," he said, slightly apprehensive. This was the first time he'd specifically mentioned anything to do with magic, after all. He wasn't sure how his 'new and improved' relatives would respond.

Fortunately, there was no need for him to worry. "How wonderful that you're getting prepared now," Petunia said, beaming at her nephew.

"It's like I always say," Vernon added, "Proper planning makes all the difference in the world. Get everything you need now, study ahead, and it'll make everything much easier in the long run."

Both parents turned to look at their overweight child. "What are you doing to get ready for school, son?" Vernon asked. "I hope you intend on following your cousin's example and getting a jump start on things."

Dudley shrugged. "I don't really have anything I need, and I don't have my books or anything. I'll just spend some time with Piers and the others."

Petunia frowned a little bit. "Maybe you and Harry could spend some time at the park," she suggested. "You've been talking about how you might like to try boxing. Harry could show you some of the exercises he's been doing. I'm sure that would help you out."

Harry nodded, inwardly marveling at the change in his relatives. Still, he wasn't going to complain. This was easily the most pleasant summer he'd ever had, and all it took was a weekly dose of potion that cost a few sickles. He just hoped it didn't turn out that he was poisoning his relatives or something.

* * *

It took a few minutes for the world to stop spinning as Harry got off the Knight Bus. He wasn't entirely sure that Ernie, the bus driver, could see, given the monstrously thick glasses the man was forced to wear, and the way the bus tended to wander all over the road. Fortunately, there was some sort of magic incorporated into the bus that pushed any obstacles out of the way. Without that, Harry was sure that the magic triple-decker would leave a trail of destruction that even the most oblivious muggle couldn't possibly ignore.

He walked confidently into the Leaky Cauldron, nobody paying him a second glance as he strolled into the back and opened the portal to Diagon Alley. He smiled a little bit as he passed Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Shoppe. He could see the kind old man inside, scooping up some ice cream for the kids who had flocked to his store to escape the heat. It would be good to talk to Florean again, but first, Harry had some tasks to complete.

He looked around him once more, then, with a deep breath, strode down the side street that lead to Knockturn Alley.

Harry wasn't quite sure what to expect. He had heard stories about this place while at Hogwarts. Some said that it was the abode of the darkest wizards, a hive of evil where hags and vampires lurked in every shadow, and Aurors only entered to remove dead bodies, not bothering with an investigation. After all, everyone in Knockturn was a suspect, and for any innocent person to enter such a horrid place was tantamount to suicide.

Not surprisingly, it turned out that the rumors were more than slightly exaggerated. Several people nodded politely as Harry passed. Not that they knew that it was the famous Harry Potter, of course. He had used a combination of disguising and aging potions to make himself look like a 30-year-old man with brown hair and hazel eyes.

Harry stopped outside of a store selling a variety of enchanted musical instruments. He studied their wares for a few minutes, thinking to himself, before eventually moving on. That enchanted harp had been useful with Fluffy, but he didn't expect to be running into the three-headed dog again anytime soon, and there were plenty of other things he would rather spend his money on. After all, Harry was preparing for a war.

He had discovered just a few months ago that the evil wizard who had killed his parents, a man called Lord Voldemort, was still alive, and looking for some way to regain a body. There had been a near miss at the end of the school year, not that Harry had any intention of telling anybody exactly what had happened. After all, he'd gone to great lengths to make Dumbledore think he had no memory of the event. Now, Harry was determined that he wouldn't just sit back and wait for Voldemort to try again. He'd do everything he could to take out the dark wizard – and anybody who followed him.

Harry continued on, making note of anything that seemed potentially useful. One small store sold poisonous candles, used for pest control. Another shop specialized in luggage, and seemed to use undetectable hidden compartments as a major selling point.

A little farther down the road, Harry found the store that he was looking for. '_Borgin & Burkes'_ the sign read. This part of the alley was a bit rougher, but still, nothing Harry couldn't handle. He opened the door and walked in, feeling a bit more confident now than he had when he first started this trip.

A stooping man could be seen behind the counter, his long, greasy hair falling down on his face. "Ah, welcome, welcome," the man called in a scratchy voice. He studied Harry for a moment. "I don't believe we've met before, is that correct?"

"Indeed," Harry replied calmly, grateful for the fedora that covered his scar.

"Well then, welcome to Borgin and Burkes, Mister…?" the oily man prompted.

"Smith," Harry replied instantly. Smith was the most common name in the muggle world, and it seemed that was the case in the magical world as well.

"A pleasure to meet you, Mister Smith. My name is Mauritius Borgin, proprietor of this fine shop. How may I help you today?"

"I'm not entirely sure what it is that I am looking for," Harry responded with a small smile. "Show me anything you may have that's unique or interesting. We'll see what catches my fancy."

"Well, if it's unique and interesting that you are looking for, you've come to the right place. We have a number of items of historical significance, as well as a number of enchanted objects useful for all manner of individuals," the man said, as he led Harry deeper into the store.

One hour later, Harry exited the shop, with a noticeably more cheerful Borgin bidding him a good day. Given that Harry had just spent more than a thousand Galleons, it was understandable that the store owner was in such a good mood. Of course, Harry was quite pleased with how things had gone as well.

He was most excited about the Hand of Glory, which almost seemed to be some sort of divine gift (if not for the fact that he had purchased it in a store focused on Dark Magic). Harry had an invisibility cloak, allowing him to move around unseen, but as he had discovered when he first tried the cloak at Christmas, it wasn't quite as useful if he couldn't see anything else. The Hand of Glory would solve that problem, shining light that could only be seen by whomever was holding the withered hand. Even in the dark of night, he would be able to see clearly, without drawing attention to himself.

That wasn't the only purchase, of course. There had been a few other things, such as a knife made of something called Inquisitor's Steel, which paralyzed anyone who came in contact with the blade, and a wood carving with a moving eye that allowed the user to enter into and control another person's dreams.

And then there was the vanishing cabinet. Harry had been looking for one for quite some time. They were very useful for bypassing wards, but only if you had a matched pair. The only other cabinet that Harry knew about (beside the pair to access Timeland) was at Hogwarts, and the odds of it matching this one were virtually nonexistent. But it would still be a useful thing to have. Of course, the cabinet was too large to carry with him, so Harry had arranged to have it delivered to the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry frowned a little to himself as he made his way out of Knockturn. There had been some good stuff, but there was still more that he was looking for. He walked back to the Leaky Cauldron, where he arranged to rent a room for the night. That hadn't been his original intention, but he didn't want anybody asking questions about why he was having the cabinet delivered to the Cauldron rather than his home, and this seemed the easiest way.

After being shown to his room, Harry took the opportunity to refresh the potions he used for his disguise, then made his way back to the alley. He had a few more stores he wanted to check while he was here.

* * *

Thankfully, by that evening, Harry was finished with everything he wanted to do – at least here in Diagon Alley, that was. He still intended to take a short trip to Hogsmeade the next day to see what Dervish and Banges had to offer, but he was pleased with what he had bought thus far. In addition to his Borgin and Burkes purchases, he'd found some useful things in a second-hand store with all sorts of odds and ends, including a bag of rope that would let more rope out, or pull it back in on a verbal command. _No more climbing on sheets for me,_ Harry thought gleefully, remembering the makeshift rope he and his friends had been forced to use a few months earlier.

And one of the greatest discoveries had actually come from Quality Quidditch Supplies. They sold devices called omnioculars, which could be used to record things and watch them again, in fast or slow motion. Harry had purchased a dozen of the strange brass contraptions, each capable of recording for 100 hours. And Harry had checked with the salesman, who confirmed that when the limit was reached, the device would continue recording over the oldest content, so that at any given time, the last hundred hours could be viewed. Perfect for a makeshift security camera.

The annual supply of pranking products for Peeves (no enchanted centipedes, this time!) and a large, space expanded tent had finished off his purchases for the day. He'd spent almost the full 2000 Galleons he'd budgeted for this trip, but he felt it was worth it. A short trip to visit Florean had been a pleasant way to end the day, and he was pleased to see the vanishing cabinet waiting in his room when he returned.

It took some effort to get the vanishing cabinet into one of his space expanded trunks without using any magic, but he wasn't sure whether or not the Ministry's Trace sensors could detect him here, and he didn't want to take any chances. People might ask questions if they found out that Harry Potter was exploring Diagon Alley while disguised.

Harry took all of his new purchases to Timeland, where he scanned them with an enchanted crystal his parents had left that would reveal any sort of tracking or detection charms. After everything came up clean, he placed it all in the room with his other enchanted objects, then made his way back to the Cauldron.

The potion was just wearing off as he climbed out of the trunk. After such a long day, he was ready for bed, so he pulled out some portable wardstones and smeared a little bit of blood on the top to activate them, then positioned the stones in the corners of the room. While he trusted Tom the Barman to a certain extent, a little extra security never hurt, after all.

He smiled as he climbed into bed. There had been an awful lot of changes these past few weeks. But it was all good.

* * *

His trip to Hogsmeade the next day was a little bit disappointing. Dervish and Banges had a decent selection of Foeglasses and Sneakoscopes, but nothing else that Harry felt would be helpful. An odds-and-ends shop had some interesting curios, but nothing that really jumped out at Harry as being particularly useful for his current situation.

So as he sat down in the café for lunch, he was hopeful that this meeting would go well. He took a deep breath, calming his nerves as a skinny man with short blonde hair and dark brown eyes walked up to him.

"Mister Smith, I presume," the man said.

"That's me," Harry replied, more calmly than he felt. "And you must be Peter Wilson."

The man nodded, and sat down. "I must say, I was surprised to get your letter. I can't imagine how my name came up. And you weren't terribly forthcoming about what kind of a job you are offering."

Harry nodded. "You are entirely correct, Mister Wilson. I have deliberately been rather secretive, for reasons that I am sure you will understand." He smiled as the waitress came over to take their orders.

The next few minutes were filled with awkward small talk as they waited for their food. Fortunately, it didn't take very long.

As the waitress walked away, Harry took a small charm out of his pocket, flipped one of the beads over twice, then set it on the table. "The amulet is charmed with a notice-me-not. Wouldn't want anyone overhearing what we're talking about, after all."

Peter sat back in his seat, ignoring the food to study Harry closely. "A wise precaution in a non-magical environment. But you still didn't answer my question."

"There are a great many things wrong with magical society. Corruption is rampant. Professional opportunities are determined primarily by family connections rather than personal merit. A great many Death Eaters escaped the last war with light punishments, if they were punished at all. I find this situation to be unacceptable, and you were suggested to me as someone who might feel the same way."

"Suggested by whom? And what do you intend to do about it?"

"Nothing illegal, I assure you. Or at least, I wouldn't ask you to do anything that you aren't comfortable with. Depending on how far the corruption goes, the legality of certain actions may not be an accurate reflection of their morality," Harry responded, thankful that he had taken the time (with Uncle Vernon's help, to Harry's surprise) to come up with some grown-up sounding ways of explaining himself. "And before I tell you who recommended you, I will require some assurances that you will not tell anyone that I was trying to hire you."

"What sort of assurances?"

"A magically binding contract that, regardless of whether or not you accept my offer, you will not tell anyone about our conversation, or that you even met me, without my approval," Harry replied promptly.

"And if I don't sign?"

Harry shrugged. "We go our separate ways. I'm using disguising potions, so you couldn't tell anyone what I look like. And as you've probably guessed, Mister Smith isn't my real name."

Peter didn't look the least bit surprised by Harry's admission. "I've hardly had any contact with the magical world since I graduated," he replied thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "So it must have been someone from Hogwarts."

Harry kept his face neutral. He knew that there was no way Peter would be able to guess the truth.

It took a few minutes, but in the end, Peter agreed. The agreement, written on standard contract paper purchased from Scrivenshaft's in Hogsmeade, was very straightforward. Harry had consulted a book on how to write such contracts. Peter's face contorted briefly when he saw the penalty (loss of magic, of course – Harry had no desire to inflict actual harm on the man) but signed anyway.

Harry smiled. "Thank you. The reason for the secrecy, and my refusal to tell you who recommended you, is that I am quite well known. I found your name in a list of people my parents were considering approaching shortly before they died. While I don't believe that you knew them well, they were the head boy and girl during your fifth year at Hogwarts."

Harry could see Peter thinking for a moment before his eyes widened in shock. He stared at Harry, who simply nodded, and lifted the fedora enough to reveal the scar on his forehead. To his credit, Peter merely raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised, but now looked at him a little more seriously.

"You're not the first person to have those thoughts about magical society," the blond man said. "A lot of people are less than thrilled with how things are. But there's not much that the average person can do." He leaned forward, looking at Harry closely. "But you're not exactly average, are you?"

"Are you talking about my magical skills, or the fame that I have as the boy-who-lived?" Harry asked.

Peter shrugged. "Magical skills are all good and well, but I was more talking about the fame. That seems to be the only thing that the ones in power really care about." He pursed his lips as he considered the disguised young man in front of him. "But strong magic can make a strong impression. How good are you?"

"I killed a troll last Halloween," Harry responded as nonchalantly as he could.

Whatever Peter had been expecting, this certainly wasn't it. "A troll? What was a troll doing in Hogwarts?"

"Now we get into the second part of this discussion. What are your thoughts regarding Albus Dumbledore?" Harry asked.

Peter fell silent, obviously confused by the seeming non-sequitur. "He's a hypocrite," he finally responded. "He claims to be doing things for the benefit of minority groups like muggleborns, but his efforts are half-hearted at best. In some ways, I could make the argument that he does more harm than good, because others that might be willing to fight the good fight, as it were, follow his example."

"I agree entirely," Harry replied evenly. "And to answer your question about the troll, it was let in by a teacher being possessed by a disembodied spirit that may or may not have been You-Know-Who, who was attempting to steal something that Dumbledore hid in the school. That object was said to have been the Philosopher's Stone, but that may just be a rumor that Dumbledore deliberately spread."

For the second time in a minute, Harry could see that Peter had been thrown for a loop. A big loop. He could almost see the thoughts flickering through the man's mind as he processed what Harry had just said. "So, what exactly is it you want me to do?"

"I need someone with skills and intelligence to help me. I don't know exactly what your duties would entail, but the overall goal is to fix the various problems that we already agreed plague the wizarding world. If You-Know-Who really can come back at some point in the future, I want to ensure that we are as prepared as possible. I know that I'm going to be one of the first he will target, so I'm willing to do whatever it takes to ensure that the Ministry is up to the task of stopping him."

"I'm not a fighter. And I have a wife and kids. You seem like a good kid yourself, but I'm not going to put myself in between you and a Dark Lord," Peter warned.

Harry shook his head. "I'm not asking you to. If it ever comes to that, I'll be hiring actual bodyguards. No, what I need from you is someone that can serve as my representative, hiring people with the necessary skills, and providing ideas and support as we work to fix magical society. I think the question here is, do you want your children to grow up in a society like ours? And if not, what are you going to do about it?"

Peter looked thoughtful, but didn't answer the questions. "So, in a broad sense, it sounds like you want me to manage some sort of lobby group. Is that what you mean? And what kind of hours are we talking about, and what kind of pay?"

Harry suppressed a smile. If they were at this point, then Peter was apparently willing to seriously consider the idea. "Lobbyist with a little bit of personal assistant thrown in there. And the hours will be flexible. I'll have tasks for you to complete, and I would expect that you would work about 40 hours a week, sometimes a little more, sometimes less. There might be some tasks that have a specific window of opportunity, but in general, you take however long you need to get it done right. You're free to work from home if you like, or we could see about getting an actual office if you think that would be beneficial. And I'd be willing to pay 70 galleons a month, with the possibility for bonuses if warranted."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Generous salary," he commented.

Harry shrugged. "I'm asking you to help me change the world. I'm not foolish enough to think that's going to be easy, or cheap."

"I'll need to talk it over with my wife," Peter said after a brief pause, "but assuming that she doesn't have any concerns, I'd like to take you up on the offer. And I'll need a few weeks to finish things up at my current job."

"That's just fine. We can start when you're ready. Will you be able to get an answer to me within a few days?"

Peter nodded. "Tomorrow at the latest."

Harry smiled. "Excellent." He handed over a card with his phone number. "Let me know what she says. And feel free to call if you have any questions."

He stood and made his way to the cashier, handing over a few bills to pay for his and Peter's lunches with a smile. _That went better than I expected_, he thought as he walked out the door.

* * *

A/N – Yes, Peter Wilson is obviously an OC. While I would rather not fill the story with new characters, there just aren't any adults from canon that would be willing to support Harry in this story. Thus, most of his team will be original. These OC introductions will be spread throughout the next few books, so there shouldn't be a major deluge of new names to worry about.

The poisonous candles are from the book, though the reason for them is mine. I imagine JKR included them to make Knockturn Alley seem more frightening, but I've always found it unlikely that a side street in the main shopping district would be as dangerous as is implied. Lucius Malfoy didn't have any problem bringing his 12-year-old son in, after all.


	3. Chapter 2: A Cryptic Warning

Chapter 2: A Cryptic Warning

Harry was both pleased and relieved when Peter called back that evening to accept the position. His wife had agreed that Harry's offer was a good opportunity, both from a financial aspect, and from a desire to do some good in the world. They invited him over to dinner on Thursday night to finalize their plans and timeline, which was how Harry found himself stepping off of the Knight Bus in front of a modest-sized home with a large tree in the front.

A petite woman with light brown hair opened the door almost immediately after he knocked. "Come in, come in," she said with a smile. "Harry Potter, I presume," she said, holding out her hand after the door had closed.

"That would be me," the boy replied as he shook her hand. "And you must be Heather Wilson."

"Please, make yourself at home," she said, gesturing to a pale green couch in the front room. "Peter took the boys over to his parents' house for the evening so they don't cause a distraction, but he should be home any minute. Sorry for the delay."

"Not at all," Harry responded politely. "I'm a little bit early, after all. No harm done."

"I've got just a little bit to finish up on for dinner. If you'll just have a seat, I'll be right with you," Heather said as she hurried back into the kitchen.

Peter arrived home less than a minute later, and they all sat down at the table. Heather had prepared a delicious lasagna, with garlic bread and salad on the side.

"This food is amazing," Harry said after finishing his helping. "You are a very lucky man to get food like this," he added while looking at Peter.

"Well, it's not always like this," Heather replied with a little blush.

"It may not always be this fancy, but it's always this good," her husband countered loyally.

Heather rolled her eyes, but turned her attention back to the young man across the table. "Can I interest you in another piece? I made sure to have plenty. If you're anything like my brothers were at your age, you could probably eat three or four platefuls."

"Well, I don't know about that much, but I wouldn't say no to another serving," Harry said somewhat sheepishly. Even with his family treating him better now, he was still a little uncomfortable asking for things sometimes.

Eventually, they all finished eating. Harry offered to help with the clean-up, but both Wilsons politely refused, instead suggesting they turn their attention to the real reason Harry had come.

"Peter was somewhat sparse on the details," Heather admitted after they all sat down in the front room, "but it sounded like you've got some ideas, and that's certainly something I can support."

"I didn't think about it at the time, but I wasn't entirely sure what that secrecy contract I signed did and didn't cover, and how much I had permission to talk about," her husband added. "I don't particularly want to lose my magic, so I felt it was better to be safe than sorry."

Harry frowned. "I knew you were going to talk to your wife about the offer, and I approved, so I think you would have been okay." His voice trailed off as he thought. "I guess I really don't know much about magically binding agreements, though, so you're probably right to err on the side of caution."

"The contract you had for me was okay for something pretty basic, but it does need some work for something long term," Peter noted. "For example, if you did give me permission to speak Heather about it, there was nothing preventing her from telling somebody. Nor was there anything preventing me from jotting down some notes, then deliberately leaving them someplace that someone could find them."

"Oh, that's definitely an oversight," Harry admitted, somewhat embarrassed.

"Not that we would try to use those sorts of loopholes against you," Heather reassured him. "But if this does grow into something more than just the two of you, you'll need some form of contract in place that covers things like that."

"Yes, I certainly will," Harry agreed, then smiled. "I guess that means that we found your first task," he told Peter brightly.

The blonde man chuckled. "I'm not surprised. If you didn't mention it, I was going to suggest just that." His face turned somewhat pensive. "While I will do my best to be fair and neutral when writing the contract, I would feel more comfortable if you had someone else look at it, purely on your side. The contract should include the duties and responsibilities of both parties, and I don't want you to be committed to something that you might later feel is unfair."

Harry frowned for a minute, thinking deeply. "I guess that makes sense. Could we have a contract that applies for a certain length of time, with the requirement that we meet to review it, say, next year? Or are there lawyers who deal with this sort of thing?"

"Having a contract that is in force for only a specific time period is quite simple, and a very good idea," Peter replied. "As for lawyers, that's… somewhat complicated," he continued with a small grimace. "The wizarding world doesn't have barristers or solicitors in quite the same way as the non-magical world. There just isn't a large enough population for it. After all, there's only about 20, maybe 25 thousand people in magical Britain. Instead, the magical world has what are called 'advocates'. Any citizen in good standing can serve as an advocate for someone else during any legal proceedings, and so while there are some people who make a money as professional advocates, it's not nearly as formalized as in non-magical society."

"That might be one of the issues with the magical world that you try to address," Heather suggested.

"You think this current system is a problem?" Harry asked, confused.

Heather tilted her head side to side, frowning as she considered the question. "While I'm not certain, I'm inclined to believe that a more informal system benefits the rich and powerful. A less defined legal system probably makes it more difficult for the common people to get legal aid, while the upper class have the connections to get experienced advocates to speak on their behalf." She shrugged. "I admit I don't know much about magical society, I've barely been back since Hogwarts, but it does seem a little bit unfair."

"Well, we might consider that some sort of long-term goal, but I think we have a few more things to deal with in the short term, first." Peter said.

"What are some of these short-term items that you're thinking about?" Harry asked. "I have to admit, while I have a vague idea of what I want to accomplish, I'm not really sure how we would go about doing it."

"We really need to get a good look at the current situation. You were specifically concerned about You-Know-Who returning. We should see if we can identify any Death Eaters that escaped punishment, and look for corruption in the ministry. I expect that those two issues would be connected. Corruption allowed the Death Eaters to go unpunished, and they are the most likely ones to be promoting the corruption."

"That makes sense," Harry replied thoughtfully.

"Once we have a solid grasp of the status quo, we can find specific changes we would like to make and spread the word in order to draw attention to these problems. This is going to be where things get tricky. It's easy to find problems. Finding solutions is more difficult, and will always negatively impact some people. Often, those people have enough power to push back," Peter warned. "We'll need to be careful not to step on too many toes until we're ready for their response. And at the end of the day, it's likely to come down to a question of how much you're willing to spend."

Harry grimaced. "I thought that might be the case. I've got quite a bit that I inherited from my parents, and I'm willing to use it all if that's what it takes, but there is a… slight complication." He glanced up, unsurprised to see that Peter and Heather were both looking at him inquisitively. "Dumbledore somehow got himself declared to be my magical guardian. I'm not sure exactly what that means for me. I do know that he can access my vault without my permission."

Peter sat back on the couch, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I'm not familiar with the concept of a magical guardian. Which is quite odd, because the very name would suggest that it applies only when the regular guardian is not a member of the wizarding world. That would, in turn, imply that both Heather and I should have had one while we were still in school." He looked over at his wife. "Have you ever…"

Heather shook her head. "Never heard of anything like that, but it makes sense. If a muggleborn child needed to go to the ministry, or to Saint Mungo's, there should be an adult to accompany them, but it wouldn't do any good if the adult was just as clueless as the child."

"Well, I can look into that, hopefully find out what Dumbledore's position means for you," Peter said with a frown. "There should be some process with the ministry to change an orphan's guardian. The problem there is that if Dumbledore doesn't agree, you would need to have some reason for the ministry to side with you instead of him, and he has a great deal of influence there."

"There might be an opportunity for some form of emancipation," Heather suggested. "I don't think there are any such provisions in non-magical Britain, but magical society may very well have options. If Harry can prove that he is mature enough to fulfill the duties of an adult, then maybe he can get rid of the magical guardian all together."

"That would be nice," Harry commented. "Do you really think that would be possible?"

Heather just shrugged. "I have no way of knowing right now. The magical and muggle worlds have been drifting further and further apart ever since the Statute of Secrecy was enacted. That's three centuries of change. Our current view of children is very different from how people thought back then."

"Magical society is focused more around families than individuals," Peter said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "In some cases, the families still follow the idea of the _paterfamilias_, the leader of the family who has a great deal of control over the members of his family. I wouldn't be overly surprised if there was some formal procedure in place for a person to legally remove themselves from that authority. We might be able to use that as the basis for you to be freed from your magical guardian."

"Would you be able to find out?" Harry asked.

Peter nodded. "That shouldn't be a problem. It might take a little while, but I have some ideas of how to find out."

"Sounds good," Harry replied. "Now, it's getting late, so I think we can leave things here. Peter, you'll look into options for getting me out from Dumbledore's thumb, as well as working on a contract for yourself and other future employees. Once we have those done, we can start gathering some information about the Death Eaters and corruption in the ministry." He looked up somewhat uncertainly at the Wilsons, suddenly feeling rather self-conscious. "Does that sound like what we were thinking?"

"An excellent summation," Peter responded with a smile.

"Okay." Harry took a deep breath, trying to suppress his earlier nerves. "When do you think you'll be ready? I know you said you need a few weeks to finish up at your current job."

"Why don't you just plan on coming over for dinner each week on Thursday?" Heather suggested. "That will give you and Peter a chance to sit down, discuss what you've accomplished, and make plans for the next week."

"I wouldn't want to impose…" Harry protested, but was cut off.

"No imposition at all," Heather assured him. "You'll need a place to meet, and it doesn't make sense to rent an office at this stage, given that you'll be leaving for Hogwarts in just a few weeks. This is as good as anywhere."

"If you're sure it's not a problem, that sounds great," Harry said. "In that case, I'll see you next Thursday. Feel free to call if there's anything else you need from me."

"Will do," Peter replied calmly.

* * *

Dinner with the Wilsons had been excellent practice for Harry, because the very next night, Uncle Vernon was having a potential client over. This was the first time that Harry had been allowed to eat with the rest of the family on such an occasion, and he didn't want to do anything to spoil it. Thus, he couldn't help but feel a small bit of panic when he realized that his aunt was reheating the leftover soup that he had made earlier in the week.

"What's the soup for?" he asked his aunt, trying not to show how nervous he was. "I thought we were having roast pork."

"Well, you did such a good job on it, I thought we could have this as an appetizer before getting to the main course," she replied with a smile.

Harry smiled back, despite his concern at unintentionally dosing the Masons with the 'friend juice'. Hopefully, nobody would ever find out.

* * *

Two hours later, Harry walked up the stairs, looking forward to a good night's sleep. Things had gone very well with the Masons. Suspiciously well, in fact.

After the appetizer, the Masons had focused almost exclusively on Harry, asking all about him. Petunia had been bursting with pride when she informed them that her nephew was attending a special school up in Scotland, the same one that his parents attended. And Vernon was quick to mention how helpful and cheerful Harry always was. Even Dudley had nice things to say, talking about how Harry had recently begun helping him get in better shape.

Unsurprisingly, the Masons had gone right along with it, promising to swing by Uncle Vernon's office the following Monday to sign the contract. After all, as Mister Mason stated, any man who could raise a boy like Harry was certainly someone that could be trusted in business.

Given how nervous he felt with everyone constantly complimenting him, Harry was of the opinion that being praised so much was almost as tiring as a hard day's work. So as he walked into his room, all he wanted to do was collapse on the bed. Unfortunately, that wasn't an option.

Harry let out a small shriek as he jumped back, startled by the bat-eared creature on the bed.

"Hello," he said nervously as the small creature bowed deeply.

"Harry Potter," the creature said, his high-pitched voice filled with an alarming amount of awe and devotion. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir… Such an honor it is…"

Harry's first thought was that maybe this… Dobby… had also eaten some of the Unctuous Unction, but after a moment's consideration, decided that was quite unlikely.

"Thank you," he finally replied when the small being trailed off. "So, you're Dobby, then, right?" he asked, just to be sure.

"Indeed, sir. Dobby is Dobby. Dobby the house-elf."

_House-elf._ Harry's mind raced. He thought that Neville had said something about house-elves, but he couldn't remember for certain. "And why are you here in my room, Dobby?" he inquired.

"Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him. Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts."

"Not go back to Hogwarts?" Harry cried indignantly. "Why should I not go back to Hogwarts?"

"A dangerous plot, there is. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts this year. Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril!"

Harry opened and shut his mouth several times while trying to figure out how to respond. "What terrible things? And who's plotting?"

"Dobby cannot say," the little creature moaned as he tried to bash his head against the wall.

The door opened, and Uncle Vernon poked his head in. "Everything alright in here, Harry?"

Harry looked back and forth between his uncle and the small visitor (who was now enthusiastically punching himself in the head). "I'm… really not sure," he confessed. "This is Dobby the house-elf. He says that I shouldn't go back to school because someone is plotting something dangerous."

Vernon frowned. "Well, that's just ridiculous. If there's a real threat, then the authorities need to be informed so they can take proper action. You can't just skip school. You're a wizard, and your parents would have wanted you to be the best wizard you could be. You're not going to be able to do that if you don't go to school."

Once more, Harry was astonished at just how much the potion had changed the Dursleys. _Or maybe I've just gone insane_, he realized. He glanced over at Dobby, who was now using a broken curtain rod as a makeshift hammer to pound his feet. _Yep, I've definitely gone insane._

Uncle Vernon stepped into the room. "We're going to have to do something about all this," he muttered as he looked at the broken detritus strewn throughout the room. "I'd forgotten how bad it was in here. You're a good lad, so you don't complain, but we can't have you living in such a mess. But that can wait for later." He cleared his throat, then turned his attention back to the house-elf. "Now then, Dobby was it?" The house-elf halted his self-abuse, and nodded his head emphatically, his large ears flapping. "Can you tell me what sort of danger there will be?"

"Dobby cannot say! But Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts!"

"I can't just leave, especially if there's danger! My friends are there! I'm not going to let anything happen to them." Harry responded hotly.

"So noble, so brave, so selfless," Dobby declared, tears beginning to flow down his cheeks. "But Harry Potter must not risk himself. Not even for his friends. Friends who don't even write to Harry Potter."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "And how do you know that my friends haven't written to me?"

Dobby shuffled his feet. "Dobby did what must be done. Harry Potter should not be angry with Dobby. Dobby hoped if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him, Harry Potter might not want to go back to school, sir." Dobby produced a large stack of letters from inside the filthy pillowcase he was wearing as a tunic.

"Fat chance of that," Harry snarled as a tried to grab the letters. Dobby was too fast, though, and dodged out of the way. Unfortunately for the house-elf, he had overlooked the large man now standing at the foot of the bed.

Moving with astonishing speed for a man of his size, Vernon seized the letters, ripping them out of Dobby's hands. The little creature looked like he was about to start crying (again) when he realized that he had lost his leverage. "If Harry Potter will not agree not to go back to Hogwarts, then he leaves Dobby no choice," the house-elf declared ominously, then vanished with a crack.

For a moment, Harry and Vernon stared at each other, unsure of what Dobby intended to do. Then, they heard a loud crash from downstairs. Rushing out of the room, Harry raced down the stairs to the kitchen, where he found the remains of the large, glass serving tray now in pieces on the floor.


	4. Chapter 3: A Day at the Ministry

Chapter 3: A Day at the Ministry

People bustled impatiently down the hallways of the Ministry of Magic, barely sparing a glance for the young man standing outside the door which lead into the Department of Records. After a look at his watch, the young man opened the door and entered, quickly spying his target, an elderly looking man in a formal, three-piece suit carrying a leather satchel.

"Grandfather," the red-haired boy called respectfully.

"Ah, Nicholas, my apologies, my boy, this is taking just a little longer than I thought," the old man responded before turning back to the lady behind the counter. "But not too much longer, I hope?"

"Just a few more minutes," she replied apologetically. "Please forgive the delay, it was a bit of an unusual request, however."

"Not to worry, my dear. I quite understand," the old man said with a cheerful smile.

Not long after that, another lady brought out a large stack of paper, easily more than 6" tall. "There's the first one," she said, before disappearing into the back room. She reappeared carrying a second stack. "And there's the other," she finished as she plopped it down on the counter.

The grandfather was apparently prepared, for he pulled two folders out of the satchel. He quickly slipped a stack of paper into each folder, despite the folders being significantly smaller than the piles.

"So what is it you need all of this for?" the second lady asked. "I've worked here for 14 years, and you're the first to ask for a copy of all the Death Eater trial transcripts, let alone two of them."

"Ah, I introduced myself to your lovely colleague, but neglected to do so to you. Professor William Plum, at your service. I recently returned from some travels overseas, including a long stint teaching in the colonies, and I'm now looking to write a book on the Blood War. Nasty bit of business, but a very important and influential time in our history." The old man looked like he wanted to say more, but the young man cut him off, first.

"Come on, grandfather. Let the ladies get back to work."

"Yes, yes, you're right, Nicholas." He loaded the folders into the satchel, then took a moment checking that he had all his possessions. "Let's see… glasses… hat… satchel…" he muttered before straightening up again. "Well, thank you both for your wonderful service. And you have a truly magnificent day."

The ladies shared an amused look as the grandfather and grandson duo left the small office.

The two men walked silently down the halls, entered the lift, and made their way to the visitor's entrance. After stepping out of the phone booth onto the streets of non-magical London, the younger turned to the older, fixing him with a gimlet eye.

"Professor Plum? Really?"

The old man shrugged. "I guess they've never played Cluedo." He pulled a vial out of his satchel as they ducked down a deserted alley. Drinking the contents in one quick gulp, the years fell away from his face, until Peter Wilson was once more recognizable. "That feels a lot better," he commented. "If that's what getting old feels like, I'm not looking forward to it one bit."

"I still think you're having a bit too much fun with this," the young man said with a smile before swallowing his own potion. The red hair darkened, and the brown eyes switched to green.

"Even if they had figured something out, it wouldn't have mattered. There's nothing wrong with us getting copies of the trial transcripts," Peter reasoned. "Speaking of…" he trailed off as he opened the satchel and pulled out one of the folders, which he handed to Harry. "This should give us both plenty of reading to go over before our next meeting."

"Yeah, I'll say," Harry muttered, looking at the folder with some trepidation before slipping it into an expanded container, which he then put back in his pocket. He looked up at the older man. "Well, your part was successful. Let's just hope that things go as well for me."

Peter looked at him closely. "Are you sure you're okay by yourself? I don't mind coming with you."

Harry shook his head. "No, if you came with me, we might as well take out an ad in the Prophet saying that Peter Wilson is working with Harry Potter. People would be very suspicious if I showed up with some random person. I was lucky enough to get a meeting with Madam Bones as is. I'd rather not have anything that might get back to Dumbledore."

"Okay," Peter finally replied, though he looked a little reluctant. "You're right, but it still seems kind of strange to let a 12-year-old meet with the head of the DMLE without an adult present."

"There will be an adult present. I highly doubt that Madam Bones is still underage," the boy replied with a cheeky grin.

Peter just rolled his eyes. "Okay, well, if you can joke about it, you must be ready. Just remember what we talked about, remember how we practiced it, and if you feel that you need a break because they are pressuring you or you're feeling nervous, don't be afraid to play up the 'young boy' angle."

"That might work for the first meeting. It might be counterproductive to try that in the second one," Harry countered.

"Just do your best, and let me know how it goes."

"Will do," Harry promised as he walked back out onto the street. Peter watched for a moment as the young man strode confidently toward the phone booth that led to the ministry. With a sigh, the man then began to make his way home, a silent prayer on his lips that things went as well for Harry as they had hoped.

* * *

When they had first come to the Ministry, Peter had pointed out the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, so Harry had no concerns as he entered the lift. A few people came and went as he traveled down, but Harry was the only one to get off at Level 2. Taking a deep breath, he walked down the hall until he came to a door labeled "Department of Magical Law Enforcement – Administration". He pushed the door open, and entered to find a nicely decorated waiting room with comfortable looking chairs along one wall, and a small coffee table with some brochures. A pleasant looking witch with greying hair and a warm smile sat behind the desk just in front of him.

"Hello, young man. What can I help you with today?" she asked.

"Harry Potter to see Madam Bones. I should have an appointment, although I'm a few minutes early," the boy said as calmly as he could.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. A pleasure to have you here today," the witch said. "You just have a seat, and I'll go see if she's ready."

Harry sat down, and glanced at the brochures he had noticed when he first came in. They all seemed to be related to law enforcement, with titles like "Home Defense and You" and "A Citizen's Guide to Auror Procedures". He had just grabbed the home defense pamphlet when he heard some people coming his way.

He stood as two women rounded the corner, the receptionist and a formidable looking witch with a monocle, presumably Madam Bones, Harry thought.

"Thank you, Agnes," Madam Bones said, then turned her attention to Harry. "If you'll come this way, please, Mr. Potter."

Harry followed the woman into a spacious office with a large, elegant desk made of dark stained wood. On the far side of the desk was a large, comfortable-looking muggle office chair, while two chairs made of the same dark wood as the desk were positioned on the visitor's side. Madam Bones gestured to one of the chairs, but then, to Harry's surprise, sat in the other wooden chair, rather than the chair on the other side of the desk. _Maybe she's trying to make me more comfortable, rather than feeling like a little boy called into the teacher's office_, he thought.

"Welcome, Mr. Potter. It's a pleasure to meet you," she said with a smile.

"And it's a pleasure for me to meet you as well," Harry responded. "Thank you for taking time out of your day. I apologize for not being terribly forthcoming about my reason for wanting to meet with you. I normally wouldn't want to bother the head of the DMLE, but I felt that this was an important enough matter that it should go right to the top, as it were."

"I must admit that I normally wouldn't meet with a preteen without having them first explain the situation to an Auror, but what you said piqued my interest," Madam Bones responded. "You indicated that it was something to do with events at the end of the year at Hogwarts. I spoke with my niece, Susan, who is in your year, and she was a little bit unclear, but knew that something suspicious had happened. She indicated, in fact, that you had spent some time in the infirmary. Is that true?"

"Yes," Harry replied, then braced himself for what he would say next. "That was the result of an encounter with a professor who was, according to Headmaster Dumbledore, being possessed by the disembodied spirit of You-Know-Who."

Whatever she had been expecting, that certainly was not it. To her credit, however, Madam Bones limited her shock to a mere widening of her eyes, before settling Harry with a rather intimidating expression. "Explain," she ordered curtly.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry finally finished relaying his tale. He had decided, after discussing it with Peter, that it would be best not to mention that he had regained his memory of the events. If she believed him, it wouldn't really matter, but if she didn't, he might be opening himself up to the very charges he had injured himself to avoid.

When he had finished speaking, Madam Bones remained quiet for several minutes, thinking through what Harry had just said. "And Dumbledore knew all of this?" she asked pointedly.

Harry thought for a moment. "I can't be certain how much he knew about the detention in the Forbidden Forest. Looking back, I didn't say anything, but I wouldn't be surprised if Hagrid did. Somehow, though, he seemed to know." Another minute of silence followed. Madam Bones was apparently thinking deeply about something, but Harry wasn't sure exactly what it was that required such concentration.

"Is there anything else unusual that happened that might be related to Quirrell or You-Know-Who?" she finally asked.

"There was one thing that happened about a week ago, but I don't know if it's related," Harry began. "I got a visit from a house-elf named Dobby. He was trying to convince me not to go back to Hogwarts. He claimed that there was something very dangerous that would happen at the school this year, but refused to give me any details. When I refused to agree to quit school, he levitated a large dish, then dropped it. I got a warning from the Improper Use of Magic Office. I'm not sure how much it matters, but my uncle suggested I see if I can get that removed from my record."

"I can take care of that warning," she said dismissively before turning her attention back to the main issue at hand. "You said the house-elf called himself Dobby, right?" Harry nodded.

"Gemini," Madam Bones said firmly. Harry nearly jumped in shock as a house-elf appeared next to him.

"Madam Bones," the newcomer said, bowing deeply.

"Harry, this is Gemini. He works for the House of Bones. Gemini, this is Harry Potter." Madam Bones said quickly, before gazing intently at the small house-elf. "Gemini, have you ever heard of a house-elf called Dobby?"

"Gemini has not heard of a Dobby-elf," the small creature replied, looked distressed. After a moment's thought, he brightened. "But Gemini can be asking other house-elves," he suggested.

"Are there any house-elves that you think might know that belong to reputable families?"

Gemini considered for a moment before replying. "Winky is knowing many house-elves. Or Patrocles may be knowing. Winky is belonging to Mister Crouchy, and Patrocles is belonging to the House of Ogden."

Madam Bones thought for a moment before responding. "Check with Winky, then report back to me."

"Right away, Madam Bones," the house-elf said before disappearing with a soft pop.

Harry must have had a confused look on his face, because Madam Bones gave a small smile, then explained. "Winky's master, Bartemius Crouch, was the head of the DMLE before me. I think he can be trusted to keep things quiet. And if we can find out who Dobby's owners are, that might give us some clue as to what is happening."

"So, you don't think that someone is playing a prank or a joke on me?" Harry asked.

"Can't risk it. Even if there's only a one in a thousand chance of something happening, we still need to investigate. Children's lives may be at stake. And given everything that you just told me, I'm not sure how comfortable I am relying on Dumbledore to deal with things."

"Can I ask your opinion of the headmaster?" Harry asked somewhat tentatively.

Madam Bones looked a little disgruntled, but Harry wasn't sure if that was because of his question, or the headmaster. "He and I don't always see eye to eye," she finally responded. "However, I will acknowledge that he has done a fairly good job holding everything together in his position as Chief Warlock, which can be a surprisingly difficult task. It's been many years since I was at Hogwarts, and with no children of my own, I'm not as familiar with his performance as headmaster." She paused for a moment, as though gathering her thoughts. "I must admit that I am concerned that it was a young man of your age who told me about the events of your last school year, rather than him. We will be discussing that, I assure you."

Any further conversation was halted by the reappearance of Gemini. "Winky is telling Gemini that Dobby is being owned by the House of Malfoy," he proudly announced.

_I should have known_, Harry thought darkly. Draco Malfoy had been the bane of his time at Hogwarts thus far. It didn't come as any stretch that his family might be involved in some sort of plot risking the lives of the other students.

Madam Bones seemed to be having similar thoughts. "Of course it would be him," she said softly before turning her attention back to Harry. "Alright, Mister Potter. I will need to take it from here. You've done your duty reporting it to the correct authorities, now I need you to forget everything you've heard today in this office. Do not tell anyone about the potential threat, and especially do not tell anyone that Malfoy may be plotting something. I will notify the headmaster, and we will figure something out."

"Will do," Harry said, though he still intended to tell Peter.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention," she said, sounding somewhat distracted. "Is there anything else you feel we need to discuss today?"

Harry shook his head. "Nothing else. Thank you for your time."

"No, thank you," she said emphatically as she escorted him out of the office.

* * *

Harry had a little over half an hour before his next appointment, so he slipped into one of the bathrooms and sat down in a stall. It wasn't the most comfortable seat, but it was better than being out where someone might see and recognize him.

He ate a granola bar from his emergency kit, then looked at the potions he carried. Heather had suggested he might want to take a calming draught to help with nerves, and given how anxious he was already, it would be a good idea. This next meeting would have a major impact for the next few years, after all.

Bringing the vial to his lips, he tipped his head back and drank the potion quickly. It was slightly bitter, and somehow cold, despite being at about room temperature. He could feel his heart rate slowing, and the stress that he had been feeling just melted away, leaving him more relaxed than he had felt in weeks.

He almost felt like whistling as he exited the restroom and made his way to the lift. Only the determination to show that he was mature and responsible prevented such a childish display.

After a short ride, Harry found himself standing outside a door with a sign that read "Magical Child Services". Somewhat amazed by how calm he was, he entered the room.

The receptionist here was not quite as pleasant as Agnes back at the DMLE had been, but she did her job. Soon, Harry was in a room with three people, who had introduced themselves as Misters Thorson and Haywood and Madam Stetson, explaining why he should be emancipated.

Fortunately, the long hours of preparation with Peter and Uncle Vernon, with the aid of the calming draught, meant that he was well prepared.

"While I'm sure you've heard of me, I doubt that any of you are familiar with the details of my family history," Harry began, "but that's a major reason why I am seeking emancipation today, so I'd like to start there, if that's alright."

All three nodded, and he continued. "House Potter was a respected, but rather minor house for most of our history. My great grandfather's time as a proxy in the Wizengamot for House Longbottom began to bring House Potter into prominence, but it was my Grandfather, Fleamont, that had the greatest impact on our family. He invented what is now known as Sleekeazy's hair potion. As we know today, that was an incredible discovery, but when he first tried to sell it in 1963, the potential buyers offered him a pittance. He knew that it would be worth a great deal more than they were offering, however, so he decided to go a different route."

He took a breath, stopping his story for a moment for what Uncle Vernon called a "dramatic pause". "Selling almost every major asset he had available at the time, including all of the rental properties House Potter owned, he poured everything he had into the production and sale of Sleekeazy's, marketing it on his own, selling directly to the consumers, or to apothecaries, rather than working through the existing hair and beauty companies of the day. It was a definite risk, but it paid off. Sleekeazy's sold very well."

Harry took a sip from the cup of water he had been given before continuing. "My father, however, had no interest in potions, so when my grandfather was ready to retire 15 years later, he sold all rights to Sleekeazy's for a very generous lump sum. This was during the height of the Blood War, when the economy was very uncertain, so rather than invest that money, my grandfather, and later, my father, chose instead to leave it in Gringotts, so that when the war was over, they would have the liquid currency to begin investing again. With my parents' untimely deaths, that money has languished in the Potter Gringotts vault. As a minor, while I can make withdrawals, I cannot invest that money, which means that it continues to go to waste. I have already identified a number of potential investments that I would like to explore, but I don't have that option so long as I am considered underage."

Harry suppressed a smile as he studied the three Children's Advocates who would make the decision today. They seemed to be somewhat impressed with his arguments. "So, you're seeking emancipation today solely for the purpose of investing your inheritance?" Mister Thorson asked.

"Not solely, no," Harry replied. "I feel it would be advantageous to also practice my spell casting over the summers. While I understand that summer is traditionally a time for the students to relax and enjoy themselves, the fact remains that, due to my fame, there is always the possibility of an aspiring criminal trying to make a name for himself or herself by attacking me. A traditional Hogwarts education may be sufficient for the average student, but I feel that it is my duty to ensure that I am able to defend myself. My parents died to protect me; now it's my responsibility to ensure that their sacrifice doesn't go to waste. Being able to practice the defensive magic that I may one day need would go a long way toward helping me in that regard."

To be honest, in some ways, he felt a little dirty at using his parents' sacrifice like that, but it had been Aunt Petunia who pointed out that if Voldemort really was still around, Harry needed to do everything he could to prepare. His parents would understand, and support that.

"And were you aware that if you are emancipated, you will be fully responsible for your care, and, more importantly, you will be fully culpable for all your actions?" Madam Stetson asked.

"I am aware of that. Given that I have no intention of committing any crimes, that's not a concern for me," Harry replied firmly. "And I have identified a few adults, mostly parents or grandparents of my friends at school, that I feel comfortable asking for advice or aid should I need more assistance." That last part was a bit of a lie, of course. Hermione's parents wouldn't have much advice to offer about the magical world, and Harry had no intention of discussing things with Neville's Gran, who was apparently a big supporter of Dumbledore. But Harry didn't want to reveal his association with Peter Wilson just yet.

"Well, it seems that you've thought this through very well, Mister Potter," Mister Haywood said with a smile. "We'll need to discuss this a little bit more, so if you'll head back out to the waiting room, we'll be with you in a few minutes."

"Thank you very much," Harry said sincerely, feeling rather optimistic about his chances given the small signs of approval he observed in each of the adults.

* * *

Harry sat in the waiting room, wishing he had brought a book. Instead, he amused himself by reading the small collection of pamphlets in a fancy holder on the wall. None of them looked as interesting as the brochures the DMLE had offered, but he wasn't really paying attention to what he was reading anyway. He was just passing time until the Children's Advocates made their decision.

After about 20 minutes of waiting, the door opened, and Harry stood. All three advocates entered the waiting room, each with a large smile.

A grin spread across Harry's face, but it quickly turned to confusion, and then a frown as one more person exited the room – the one person that Harry least wanted to see (besides, perhaps, Voldemort).

"While you made some excellent points, Harry, we were still a little bit concerned about having someone of your age, and with little experience in the real world being declared an adult," Madam Stetson said cheerfully. "At the same time, you're right that a boy in your situation may have some circumstances that require some special attention. Fortunately, Mr. Dumbledore made a suggestion that solves all of our problems. We'll set you up with a formal apprenticeship with the Headmaster, so that he can help you, both with your magical education, and with investments or any other issues as you restore and reactivate House Potter."

Albus Dumbledore just stood there with a bright twinkle in his eyes.


	5. Chapter 4: Regroup and Rethink

_A/N – Lots of responses regarding last chapter. I just want to make something clear. Yes, Dumbledore will get what is coming to him – eventually. Don't forget that our least favorite headmaster has had decades to make connections and build up good will. I've always found it quite unrealistic in stories where Harry points out a few things Dumbledore has done and the entire magical society immediately jumps on the 'Dumbledore is evil' train. This is going to be a very long and drawn out fight to convince people that the great Albus Dumbledore is not nearly as good as he portrays himself, and even then, some people might not accept it._

* * *

Chapter 4: Regroup and Rethink

Shock. Horror. Anger.

_I thought we were being careful. He shouldn't have known about this._ A million thoughts raced through Harry's mind. Some small corner of his brain wondered if the calming draught he had taken earlier had already worn off, or if he would have been in an even worse state without it.

Ideas continued to flit through his head. Contingencies that had been discussed with both Peter and the Dursleys. But nothing worked. They hadn't planned for this.

"No," Harry finally said, somewhat softly.

"What was that?" asked Madam Stetson, who still smiling brightly at the young man before her.

"I said no," Harry replied, much more firmly this time. "I don't know exactly what is involved in an apprenticeship, but I will not accept it. I refuse to be apprenticed to someone who claims to be my magical guardian and yet never once checked up on me or even spoke to me in the decade before I attended Hogwarts."

"Mister Potter," Mister Thorson began, in a condescending, humoring-the-petulant-child voice that made Harry want to punch him in his rather large nose. "It's obvious that you require a little more special attention than the average young man. I realize that your situation may not have been ideal these past few years, but this will be the best thing for you."

"I don't agree," Harry shot back hotly. _Stay calm. No matter what they do or say, just stay calm._ Harry tried to keep the advice that Uncle Vernon, of all people, had given him the night before. But right now, calm was the furthest thing from Harry's mind.

"And yet, it is our job to make the best decision for you, Mister Potter," Madam Stetson responded, the smile having been replaced by a firm, no-nonsense expression. "And we all agree that this is what will be best. It will be a wonderful opportunity for you."

"We'll leave you two to discuss how things will work from now on," Thorson said with a nod to Dumbledore. He turned and walked back out of the waiting room, followed by the other two.

_Children's Advocates. Fat lot of good they did. _Harry snorted at the sarcastic thought as he angrily watched them leave.

"While it may not have been quite what you expected, Harry, I do hope that we can make this work. I genuinely do want what is best for you," Dumbledore said, obviously ignoring the anger the young man was feeling.

"That's funny coming from the man that completely ignored everything that was happening to me at Hogwarts. Snape goes out of his way to belittle me, McGonagall punishes me unfairly, the entire house of Gryffindor shuns me, and my supposed guardian does nothing."

Dumbledore sighed. "I think that right now, tempers are running a little bit high to have this discussion. We can revisit it once school begins, if you would like, but for now, I think it would be best to get you somewhere you can stay for the rest of the summer."

"Not going to dump me at the Dursleys again?" Harry sneered.

"No, I think we can both agree that may not be the best option right now. I was thinking a wizarding family so that you can spend some time with someone your own age," Dumbledore replied calmly.

Despite the rage still coursing through his veins, Harry had to acknowledge that leaving was a good idea. The one thing all the adults in his life had agreed on was that it would be very bad for him to make a scene at the ministry if things didn't go his way. _Of course, we thought 'things not going my way' would mean they turned down the emancipation, not that they stick me in an apprenticeship with Dumbledore!_

"Fine," the boy finally replied, trying to keep from snarling.

* * *

"What is the name of Merlin and Morgana is that?" Harry asked, astonished and appalled at the monstrosity of a home in front of him.

"That is where you will be staying for the next few weeks," Dumbledore responded cheerfully.

"I thought you were talking about me staying with Neville. Who in their right mind would live there?" Harry couldn't help but stare. The home seemed to haven once been a stone pig pen, but extra rooms had been added here and there until it was several stories high and so crooked that it quite obviously relied on magic to stay standing. From where Harry was standing, he could see several chimneys poking up out of the red roof, and a small shed off to the side that looked like it would fall over in a stiff breeze. In short, it was difficult to imagine a more ridiculous looking building, and Harry could only imagine what sort of person would choose to live there.

The door opened, and an unfortunately familiar, red-haired, freckled face came into view. "Harry, mate, glad you could make it!" came Ron's excited cry.

_The Weasleys. Of course, it would be the Weasleys._ Harry thought as he suppressed a groan.

* * *

Harry looked out the window of the room he shared with Ron, right at the top of the home the Weasleys quaintly referred to as "The Burrow". In the distance, he could see the lights of the nearby village, Ottery St. Catchpole, twinkling brightly in the darkness. The loud snores of his housemate filled the room. It was all Harry could do not to scream.

The day had started out so well. And now, just 12 hours later, it had all fallen apart. The Children's Advocates that didn't actually care what the child in question had to say. Dumbledore and his stupid apprenticeship. And now, the Weasleys.

If he were being totally honest, Harry would have to admit that the Weasleys were not that bad of people, although they were certainly big supporters of the headmaster. Molly Weasley had welcomed him into the home with a large sandwich, which Harry grudgingly admitted was surprisingly good. She had chided him for thinking ill of the headmaster, suggesting instead that he view the apprenticeship as a wonderful opportunity that he should make the most of.

Ron was excited to see Harry, obviously, though Harry couldn't really say the same. The redheaded boy (Harry made a note to come up with a new way to mentally refer to Ron, given that he would spend the next several weeks surrounded by redheads) was pretty much only interested in chess and Quidditch, and seemed to constantly be trying to claim the position of "best mate" that was rightfully Neville's.

Things had been a little tense with the twins, Fred and George, given Harry's refusal to play for Gryffindor in the final match, likely costing the Lions the game, and thus, the Quidditch Cup. Harry, for his part, had no real desire to make amends. They may not have been the worst on the team, but they still went along with the others in shunning Harry after he had been heavily penalized for something that wasn't even his fault. Given that they had refused to call him by name for months, always referring to him instead as "the seeker", he now referred to them simply as "the beaters". It seemed appropriate. To Harry's surprise, when the three of them got into an argument, Mrs. Weasley had come down on his side, pointing out the hypocrisy of the twins, notorious troublemakers that they were, getting so angry at someone else for being punished, whether it was deserved or not.

Percy had been a bit stand-offish. Harry had never really liked the older boy, who had made a point of chastising Harry for his heinous crime of defending himself when attacked by three Slytherins. As far as Harry was concerned, Percy had never had an original thought in his life, instead, just mindlessly repeating whatever the adults in charge said. Of course, the fact that Percy did so with a smug, I'm so much mature than you attitude really didn't help things.

Harry hadn't been sure what to expect Mister Weasley to be like, but he found himself actually liking the rather quiet man. He hadn't chastised Harry for his anger toward Dumbledore. It was clear that he still supported and respected the headmaster, but he had acknowledged that Harry should have more say in things that impacted his life. The man was obviously a bid mad for muggle stuff. It turned out that the dilapidated shed was full of random non-magical odds and ends, along with a car that Mister Weasley may or may not have enchanted with a few charms (the balding man had been a little bit cagey on the subject).

And Ginny… was a subject that Harry didn't really want to think about. It was clear the girl was infatuated with Harry. And while Harry had begun to notice more and more that girls were different from boys in ways that he found increasingly interesting, around Ginny, it was just awkward. He got on well with Hermione and the chasers (at least, before the incident with Malfoy) but things were uncomfortable around Ginny. It certainly hadn't helped matters that she had been staring at Harry so much during dinner that she hadn't even noticed when the beaters had switched her glass of milk for one filled with soup.

In all, while he couldn't say that he hated the Weasleys, and it was certainly better than life at Privet Drive had been before he started using the Unctuous Unction, he dreaded the thought of staying here for the remaining weeks until the school started.

Harry turned back to look at Ron's sleeping form. From all appearances, the boy was completely out of it, and unlikely to awaken before morning. Just like Harry had hoped.

He cautiously unlatched the window, and pushed it open slowly, careful not to make any noise. Once it was fully open, he paused again, listening for any sign that his actions had been detected. The soft moaning of the ghoul in the attic above them was audible even over Ron's snores, but there was nothing that would indicate anyone else in the house was awake. Harry pulled out the bag of rope he had purchased during his big shopping spree in Diagon Alley. He looked at the deceptively small, brown canvas sack. The owner of the shop had said that it was expanded inside to hold a thousand feet of rope, but Harry had never actually tested it. Tonight would be his chance.

He grabbed the leather bulb at the end, and, with a soft but resolute command of "stick", pressed it firmly to the underside of the window head. When he removed his hand, he was pleased to see that the bulb remained in place. Grabbing tightly ahold of the straps on the bag, Harry climbed up onto the window sill, then turned, and leaned out the window, his weight now more or less entirely supported by the rope. He felt a moment of panic now that he was finally in place, but he had made his decision, and was determined to see it through.

"Down," he whispered, praying that the rope worked like he had been told. If not, he would be falling several dozen feet to the unforgiving ground below. As the bag began to let rope out, Harry realized that he should have tested it in the gym at timeland first, just to make sure, but it was too late. His heart raced as he sped toward the ground. "Slower," he frantically ordered. Fortunately, the bag responded quickly, his fall slowing considerably. It was still a bit of a rough landing when he hit the ground, but he was unharmed.

Heart still racing, Harry opened his kit and pulled out the Hand of Glory, quickly lighting the attached candle, then set off at a brisk walk toward the nearby village. He didn't expect any of the Weasleys to check and make sure that he was really sleeping, but there was no reason to dawdle around, either.

Unsurprisingly, Ottery St. Catchpole was deserted at this time of night, but Harry wasn't here for the people. He quickly located a post box and deposited his letter to Peter Wilson, then sped back to the Burrow. The rope bag was just effective at pulling the boy back up into the room, and Harry clambered awkwardly back in through the window, confident that his little excursion had gone unnoticed.

Hopefully Peter would have some ideas of what to do about this mess. Harry would just have to wait and see.

* * *

Life settled into a bit of a routine over the next few days. While he was still angry at Dumbledore, Harry wasn't so churlish as to take it out on his hosts. Despite their respect for the headmaster, the Weasleys were still basically good people, so Harry was willing to help out with a few small chores around the house, and tried to get along with the children. The garden was de-gnomed, the chickens were fed, and Harry patiently explained the function of things like rubber ducks and ping pong paddles to Arthur Weasley.

It was somewhat of a relief when Mrs. Weasley announced at dinner one night that the next day they would be taking a trip to Diagon Alley for their school supplies. It would be a nice change of scenery, and while Harry had already purchased the books that the assistant at Flourish and Blotts had indicated as being common second year material, the book list had indicated some surprising requirements for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Harry could see that money was tight for the Weasleys, but his offer to Mister Weasley to pay for his room and lodging was politely but firmly declined. Still, he felt a bit awkward when he saw the tense expressions on the face of the Weasley parents at the idea of buying so many copies of Gilderoy Lockhart's books.

The trip to Diagon was simple enough, though it likely helped that Harry was at least a little familiar with he Floo Network. He hadn't ever used it before, but he had seen it used, both at the ministry and at the Leaky Cauldron. Still, it was an unforgettable experience, as he flew, spinning madly through the emerald flames. Flashes of rooms appeared here and there, until he was finally spat out at one particular fireplace. He slid a little way along the floor, then picked himself up, noticing to his horror that a large number of people were staring at him with open amusement, including, of course, the beaters. He brushed the soot off, just in time to see Percy Weasley step gracefully out of the brightly burning fire. Harry was somewhat pleased to note that Ron didn't seem to be any more skilled at Floo travel than he had been.

A little more than an hour later, they found themselves in front of the bookstore, which was overflowing with people, all talking excitedly. A large banner hanging from the upper windows explained why.

"So, do you think Mum knew about this in advance, or was it just a coincidence?" Beater one asked his twin in a sotto voice. The other beater snorted in amusement, but didn't respond.

* * *

It was only after a ridiculous amount of time waiting in line, followed by an embarrassing encounter with his new DADA professor, who had manhandled Harry into a picture, followed by a very out of character, and quite suspicious (in Harry's opinion) fight between Lucius Malfoy and Arthur Weasley, followed by several minutes of Molly Weasley haranguing her husband for said fight, that Harry and the Weasleys finally made it back to the Burrow. Harry carried his books up to Ron's room, placing them on the floor, then collapsed onto the small, collapsible bed the Weasleys had set up for his use.

"Bloody 'ell," Ron said as he entered the room as well. "Can't believe that git is going to be our new professor."

Harry just grunted in acknowledgement. The books certainly sounded impressive, but he had a hard time envisioning someone like that actually doing something that might risk messing up his perfectly styled hair.

"So, want to play some chess?" the redhead suggested.

Harry shook his head. "Actually, Ron, I think I'm going to take a nap for a while. I didn't sleep well last night, for some reason."

Ron seemed a little put out, but didn't make a fuss.

* * *

After dinner, Harry played a few games with Ron before once more begging off to turn in early. When he awoke a few hours later, the house was dark and quiet, except for the regular nighttime sounds of Ron's snores and the ghoul's moans. He carefully opened the window, and just as he had had before, snuck out, making his way to the village.

To his relief, Peter Wilson was standing at the outskirts of the town, waiting patiently. He gave a quick wave, and the man came over. Finding a deserted spot, Harry pulled out the trunk, and they climbed inside, shutting the lid behind them. Harry didn't want to tell the other man about Timeland quite yet, but the trunk was large enough for them to both sit comfortably even without going through the vanishing cabinet.

"So, first and most important question. How are you doing?" Peter began, a serious expression on his face.

Harry just groaned. "I don't know. I'm just… frustrated with everything. I thought things were going well, and now there's this apprenticeship, and I don't even know what it means. And the Weasleys aren't bad people, but it's irritating being stuck with them, and I don't want to be rude, but I don't want to be there. If anything, I would have rather stayed with Neville. Even the Dursleys would have been better." His voice trailed off as he closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

Peter thought for a moment, studying the young man in front of him carefully. "In some ways this is my fault. I underestimated how much Dumbledore would be willing to do, the lengths he would be willing to go, to keep control of you. I'm surprised, but I maybe I should have predicted it."

Harry shook his head sadly. "I don't think either of us could have predicted it," he muttered. "Just tell me this apprenticeship thing isn't real. There's no way they can just force me to be apprenticed, right?"

"From what I can tell, you are correct," Peter said, somewhat hesitantly. "But, then again, I'm not sure how we can protest it. The only option I know of would be to appeal to the Wizengamot, but Dumbledore probably has even more influence there. And if they were to give it their seal of approval, that might make things worse in the long run."

"So what, I just have to accept it?"

"No. It's just like we talked about for if they didn't approve your emancipation. I agree that this apprenticeship is not valid, so I'm perfectly willing to act as an intermediary for the time being. Emancipation was always a long shot, and while the apprenticeship may complicate things, it doesn't really change our long-term plans. You can't be as directly involved right now, but that was always going to be the case. You're at school for most of the year. We may have to rethink some of the ideas we came up with, but this isn't a total disaster."

Harry sighed and tilted his head back staring up at the ceiling despondently.

"Have you ever heard of the Dieppe Raid?" Peter asked suddenly.

Harry blinked in confusion, sitting up to look at the man curiously. "No. What is it?"

"It was a failed attack during World War II. The allies tried to invade France to capture a beachhead that they could use as a staging ground for further invasion. By almost any standard, it was a complete disaster. As I recall, more than half of the troops they sent were killed or captured, while very few Germans were killed. But it was a very important operation, because the Allies learned from their mistake. That was one of the first times in modern war that anyone had tried to attack a fortified position by sea. The attack itself failed, but by analyzing why it failed, it showed the Allied commanders what would be required to launch a successful assault. It was something like two years later that the Allies finally invaded at Normandy, but they used that time wisely. They developed new types of boats and vehicles, and new strategies for quickly establishing positions, dropping soldiers behind enemy lines to disrupt the German defenses. All things that they learned from the mistakes made at Dieppe."

Harry remained silent, but Peter could see that he was intrigued by the mini-history lesson, and understood where Peter was going with this.

"Everything with the emancipation, and now, this apprenticeship, is like your own little Dieppe Raid. I'm sure it's not pleasant, and there may be some obstacles in your path now, but we learned quite a bit. We underestimated how much influence Dumbledore had, and how close of a watch he was keeping on you. We know that now. So we take a step back, and prepare again. It might take some time, but this isn't an insurmountable challenge. I am still confident that we will succeed in the long run, we just need to learn our lessons."

Harry nodded. "Okay. You're right. We still have some options."

"Exactly. We'll get through this," Peter said with an encouraging smile. "Now, we can't keep meeting at night like this or the Weasleys might notice, and it probably wouldn't work to be constantly exchanging owls, so I made something that will help us keep in contact." He reached into his bag, and pulled out two books that looked like journals, handing one over to Harry.

"The first few pages are blank. They're just decoys. You should right something in it that looks like an actual diary entry. But I put an enchantment called a protean charm on page 7. If you write something, and then press this little diamond in the corner, it will show up in my book. I can do the same to write back to you." He demonstrated, and Harry was surprised to see the words '_Can you read this?_' show up in his book. "The charm won't transfer a large block of text. You're limited to about 57 characters, but it should be enough to let us stay in touch without anybody knowing about it."

Harry nodded in understanding, then put the book on the desk. "So I should just keep going like usual?" he asked.

Peter nodded his head slowly. "I think that would be best. You've only got a short time until Hogwarts starts up again. Just do your best. Try not to get in any fights with Dumbledore, or anybody else. I'll continue researching the apprenticeship and try to find a way to protest it without making things worse. We'll stay in touch, and figure out where we want to go from here once we know more about how the apprenticeship will impact things."

"Okay," Harry finally responded, somewhat reluctantly. He then sighed. "I knew this wasn't going to be easy. Maybe it was stupid for me to think that everything would work without any problems, but it's still frustrating."

"I know," Peter reassured him, "but the best thing is still to move forward. It might take a little while, but we'll find a way to fix things. In the meantime, you may want to try to use the apprenticeship to pressure Dumbledore to help you. If he does, you can learn some cool magic or something. If he doesn't, that gives you more evidence that can be used to get the apprenticeship overturned."

"Alright. I'll do that." Harry replied, looking a little more optimistic now than he had at the beginning of the conversation.

Peter stood. "We should get out of here," he suggested. "Don't want anybody to know you've been sneaking out." They climbed up out of the trunk, which Harry shrunk once more and put in his pocket.

Before he disappeared, Peter looked at the young man one more time. "It's all going to work out. It might take some time, but I promise, we will win in the end."


	6. Chapter 5: Back to School

Chapter 5: Back to School

The days passed quickly at the Burrow, and soon enough, it was time to return to Hogwarts.

The final dinner the night before the kids would all return to school was a festive affair. Mrs. Weasley made an absolutely awe-inspiring meal, the old, wooden table groaning under the heavy load of mouthwatering food. The beaters finished things off with a display of Dr. Filibuster's Fireworks, filling the kitchen with bouncing multi-color stars and smoke, which, while impressive, left Harry wishing they had set them off outside, instead. A large mug of hot chocolate finished off the night, and then they were all shooed up to bed by Mrs. Weasley.

Harry had done a good job keeping his things organized the whole time he had been over, but still spent a few minutes gathering things, checking for anything missing, and packing to ensure that he was ready for the next morning. And he was extremely grateful that he had as he stared at the absolute bedlam around him the next morning.

With all five of the children still living at home set to attend Hogwarts this year, the place was an absolute madhouse. People dashed up and down the narrow staircase, nearly running into each other at times. Molly Weasley ran around, delivering the last load of half-dried laundry that she had hurriedly run through that morning, while Arthur began loading things into his car, an old Ford Anglia. When he went to load his trunk into the boot, Harry discovered that the man had, in fact, enchanted the car. Generous space-expansion charms had enlarged the boot enough that a dozen grown men could easily fit inside.

"Not a word to Molly," Arthur whispered as he noticed Harry's surprise at the increased size.

"My lips are sealed," Harry agreed with a nod. Then a thought crossed his mind. "But if space expansion charms are so easy, why the need to add more floors onto your house? Why not just put an expansion charm inside?"

Arthur frowned as he thought. "I don't know why, but you're not supposed to use expansion charms on houses. It's not healthy for some reason. For short term things like tents, it's not a problem, but for something you're going to live in for a long time, it's not good for you."

"Hmm, that's interesting. I wonder why that is?" Harry responded, half to himself.

Mister Weasley just shrugged before striding back into the house, shouting for anybody that had their trunk ready to bring it down now.

After several false starts, followed by frantic dashes back to the house for forgotten items, they were finally on their way to King's Cross Station, where they would board the Hogwarts Express.

"Why isn't there a floo access to Platform 9 3/4?" Harry wondered. He had mostly been thinking out loud, but Percy took the opportunity to respond.

"There is a fireplace hooked up to the floo network, but families who wish to use it must sign up well in advance, and there is a very strict schedule. Often people who wish to take the floo are forced to arrive several hours early."

"Unless they feel like making a completely voluntary donation to the Floo Regulation Panel, in which case they coincidentally get bumped up to the top of the list for the best spots," Mister Weasley muttered under his breath.

They arrived at the station at about a quarter to 11, giving them just enough time to rush in and quickly make their way to the hidden portal to platform 9 3/4. Percy went first, followed by the beaters, and then Molly, Arthur, and Ginny. They all made it through without a problem. Harry and Ron, however, were not so lucky.

As he climbed to his feet, hurriedly picking up his trunk and Hedwig's cage (who was clearly displeased with the treatment she was receiving), Harry noticed people staring at him.

"Sorry, lost control of the trolley," he muttered in response to the security guard's angry shouts.

He shared a worried look with Ron. The clock said that they had less than a minute to get on board the train. Harry walked over to the barrier that hid the secret entrance to the magical platform, trying to remain unnoticed while pounding his fist against the hidden portal. It was no use. As far as he could tell, the barrier was completely solid.

"It's gone," Ron said, sounding stunned as he pointed to the giant clock, which now clearly displayed the time of 11:00. He turned to look at Harry, fear and panic obvious in his eyes. "What do we do?"

"We just wait here until your parents get back," Harry said, a lot more calmly than he felt.

"What if they can't get back out?" Ron demanded, a little shrilly. "What if they're stuck in there?"

"Calm down. We don't want to attract to much attention," Harry instructed in a quiet voice. "They'll get back somehow. Someone will notice, and fix the problem, or they'll floo out. Or they can apparate, right? They know we're here. It'll be okay." He turned his attention back to his owl, making soothing noises as he gently stroked her back to calm her down.

"The car," Ron all but shouted, his eyes gleaming.

Harry turned to look at the other boy. "What about the car?"

"We can take the car," Ron said, thankfully much quieter now. "Dad's got all sorts of enchantments on it. It can fly, and turn invisible, and everything."

Harry thought back to the conversation he had overheard during the trip, where Arthur had obviously wanted to do something that would speed things up, but Molly was vehemently opposed. "So that's what they were talking about," he muttered, then turned his focus back to the other boy. "But no, we don't need to do anything. We just wait here, and someone will come along eventually. Who knows what could happen if we take the car?"

Despite Ron's pleading, Harry remained firm. He didn't know how to drive or fly a car, and he was quite certain that Ron didn't, either. And in any case, he was confident that the problem would solve itself sooner or later.

Not surprisingly, Harry turned out to be correct.

"Ron, Harry!" Came the panicked cry of Mrs. Weasley as she rounded the corner at a run, her husband right behind.

"We're right here," Harry called, then was immediately ambushed, along with Ron, in a forceful hug.

"What happened?" Mister Weasley asked, seemingly no less relieved, but thankfully, less inclined to test Harry's rib strength.

Ron just shrugged, while Harry tried to explain as best he could without actually knowing anything. "The portal just didn't work. We crashed right into it like it was solid. We tried to get through, but nothing was working, so we decided to just wait."

"Well, good thing you did," Molly commented, still checking both boys over as though expecting something dreadful to have happened without them noticing. "Let's get you home, while Arthur figures out who to contact about this," she said as she began to lead them back out of the station.

* * *

While Harry had been looking forward to spending time with Neville and Hermione, he still had to admit that spending the time at the Burrow, rather than on the train, was quite nice. Molly made some large, hearty sandwiches for he and Ron, along with a pitcher of fresh lemonade.

Harry and Ron passed the time playing chess. Not surprisingly, Harry lost almost every game. He soon found himself strategizing not on the game itself, but on how he could enchant his glasses to show him optimal moves. After all, he had defeated McGonagall's giant chess set with the aid of his smaller board. There should be some way that he could do the same thing, and use the small chessboard to show him good moves.

He was just figuring out how he could input his opponent's move without being noticed when Molly interrupted them to tell them it was time to leave. They would be taking the floo to the Three Broomsticks up in Hogsmeade, and would make the trek to the train station from there.

Traveling with luggage was a bit more difficult, but Harry managed. He still fell flat on his face when he arrived, but at least he was in one piece (more or less) and his trunk had made the trip as well. Thankfully, Harry had had the foresight to sent Hedwig on her own. She'd had enough of being jostled around for one day.

Molly lead the way, setting a brisk pace despite her size, striding confidently up the hill to the Hogsmeade train station. It took about half an hour, but they made it before the sun had fully set. The Hogwarts express was just coming into view when Harry and Ron collapsed onto one of the benches.

"Now, you boys stay here. I've got to be getting home and get supper ready for Arthur," Mrs. Weasley commanded, then disappeared with a loud crack.

Neither boy said anything for a moment, just watching as the train drew closer.

"Y'know, it seems like the Hogwarts express is kind of useless," Harry finally commented. "I mean, why go to London, and then ride a train up, when we could just come directly here? Between floo and the Knight Bus, there's no real difficulty with skipping the train ride and traveling right to Hogwarts."

"I dunno, I guess," Ron responded.

Harry pushed the thought aside. Wizards were, to be honest, a little lacking in logic at times. It was easiest just to accept it and move on.

The train finally came to a stop, and students began to pour out. Keeping at careful eye out, it wasn't long before Harry spotted Neville and Hermione. They were both shorter than the average Hogwarts student, but Hermione's bushy hair was very… distinctive, to say the least. It certainly made finding her easy.

"Harry!" came the worried cry from his female friend. "Where were you? We looked all over the whole train."

"For some reason, the entrance to the platform was blocked," he replied. "We couldn't get through, so we went back to the Weasleys' place, then took the floo up here."

This, of course, resulted in a torrent of questions, which Harry did his best to answer as the four students followed the crowd to the carriages that would take them up to the school.

As they got in sight of the carriages, Harry froze, staring in confusion. "I could have sworn that the carriages didn't have horses last time," he said somewhat uncertainly.

The other three shot him confused glances. "Harry, they aren't any horses," Hermione said, her voice a mixture of concern and confusion.

"Yes, there are. They're right there," Harry argued. Seeing that none of them believed him, he grabbed Neville by the shoulder and dragged him up to the strange, leathery horse. Hermione and Ron followed, sharing worried looks.

As they drew closer, Harry could see that the horses had wings. They were certainly some of the creepier animals he'd ever seen. He put his hand gently against the animal's flank, relieved to feel the rough skin beneath his fingers. At least he wasn't imagining things.

"Put your hand out," he commanded. All three of the other preteens followed his instructions. Neville and Ron gasped when they finally made contact with the strange animal, while Hermione gave a little shriek.

"There's something there!" she exclaimed, shock evident in her voice.

"I know. That's what I said," Harry responded pointedly. She gave him a mild glare, but didn't respond.

"Maybe we could ask Hagrid," Neville suggested hesitantly. "It must be some sort of magical animal, and he'd be the one to ask, right?"

None of the others had a better idea, so they climbed into the carriage, and began the ride up to the castle. No words were exchanged, but all four of them were wondering about the strange creature, and why only Harry could see it.

* * *

Harry was still a little full from the large, late lunch they'd had at the Burrow, so he wasn't terribly hungry by the time they arrived at the castle, but he was still looking forward to the opening feast. Hogwarts food was nothing to sneer at, after all.

First, however, they had to wait for the sorting. Given that Harry really didn't know any of these kids (with the obvious exception of Ginny, who would be at the very end, and was practically a shoo-in for Gryffindor) he was hardly paying attention as the names were read and the students sorted.

One name, however, did draw his attention.

"Lovegood, Luna," McGonagall called, and a small girl with messy blonde hair stepped forward.

"Lovegood… As in the Quibbler?" Harry mumbled softly to himself as he watched the girl. During his discussions with Peter, newspapers had been a topic of particular interest. After all, if their goal was to expose the corruption, they needed to get the word out to as many people as possible. Unfortunately, the main newspaper in magical Britain was the Daily Prophet, which both Wilsons agreed was not a terribly reliable source of information. Before the Blood War there had been two other newspapers, but both were destroyed by Death Eaters. Not surprisingly, rumors abounded as to why exactly the Prophet had been untouched. These days, it seemed to follow the ministry lines quite closely, making it an unlikely source of aid.

But the Quibbler, despite its less than stellar reputation, was actually a viable option for spreading their message. The magazine was often satirical, avoiding conflict with the ministry by presenting criticism as nonsensical stories, but it still had a reasonable reader base. And those readers were, by and large, the same type of people who would be willing to look at the ministry with a skeptical eye.

_Something to keep in mind,_ Harry thought as he watched the girl make her way over to the Ravenclaw table.

Soon enough, the sorting was done, as Ginny Weasley sat down at the Gryffindor table. Dumbledore said a few words, and the feast was on.

* * *

"So, Harry, you never really explained why you were staying with the Weasleys," Neville said as they ate.

Harry groaned. "Yeah, well, it wasn't exactly my first choice. I applied for emancipation, but it didn't go the way that I had hoped."

"Emancipation? What's that?" Neville asked curiously.

"It means he would be considered an adult," Hermione explained, then turned to Harry. "But that would be a really bad idea! Harry, you're still only 12 years old. You can't possibly think that you're ready to be considered of age already! You said you were trying to get away from the Dursleys, but I didn't think you meant something like that!"

"Hermione, calm down! I would have been fine. In any case, it didn't work. They set me up as an apprentice to Dumbledore instead. Despite my protests," Harry added fiercely. "So, now I'm back to square one. He dropped me off at the Weasleys, and I was there the rest of the summer."

"Well, I think that's a much better solution than getting emancipated. Harry, what were you thinking?" Hermione demanded.

"I was thinking that it was my choice, Hermione. Not yours." Harry retorted.

"Well, this is a much better option. Just think about it! Being apprenticed to Dumbledore. It'll be a fabulous opportunity," the girl finished.

Harry just rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything, choosing instead to finish the meal in silence.

He did, however, glance up at the table where the professors were sitting, carefully observing the newest addition to the Hogwarts faculty as a rather concerning idea began to grow.

* * *

Contented groans filled the air as the five second year boys filed into their dormitory, each having eaten his fill of the delicious food. Their trunks had already been placed at the foot of each bed. Ron and Seamus settled into bed right away, while the others all took a few minutes to unpack a little bit.

Harry spent a few minutes getting his supplies for school organized. He had purchased a muggle three ring binder to use for note taking in his classes, having grown quite frustrated with loose rolls of parchment. The binder had a cloth cover, with a zipper to hold it shut and keep everything organized. And his brief discussion with Mister Weasley about the car this morning had given him an idea.

He opened the binder, and studied the inside cover thoughtfully. If he could put a thin container with an expansion charm on it, he might be able to create a space deep enough to hold his books. Perhaps another container on the back cover would be able to hold completed essays that needed to be turned in. It was irritating to have to carry the parchment in his book bag, because it was easily crushed, but if he had a place just for those essays, that would save a lot of trouble.

He set the binder on the nightstand next to the pile of school books. Enchanting something like that was a bit beyond his level right now. But it was something to think about. He turned his attention over to the glamorous books he had been required to purchase for Defense Against the Dark Arts, the suspicious thoughts coming to mind once more.

He waited until the rest of the boys in the dorm were asleep before pulling out the linked journal Peter had given him. It was a little bit irritating to have to break everything up into short lines, but it worked as needed. They were, however, still looking for something that would make communication a bit easier. The journals had always been intended as a stop-gap measure until something more efficient came along. Peter had mentioned two-way enchanted communication mirrors, but they were very expensive, and very rare. So for now, they made do with what they had.

_Peter, I have a new assignment for you._

_Research Gilderoy Lockhart, the author._

_He's the new DADA professor._

_If Malfoy is planning something, one of the teachers _

_may be involved. He and Snape are most likely._

After pressing the transmit rune for the final time, Harry closed the journal and placed it on the table next to him, then lay back on his bed. Whatever Dobby had tried to warn him about, he would need to be ready for it. Despite Madam Bones' assurances, last year had shown him how dangerous it was to just wait and hope that things turned out okay. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

* * *

A/N – Beginning in the next few chapters, sharp-eyed readers might notice some elements from other fandoms that I am using. It's not a full on crossover at this point, but I am setting up some things that I will use if I decide to expand this beyond the HP story line, and do want to write a crossover with other worlds. The Easter eggs in this book are pretty subtle and well hidden, but in later books they will be a lot more obvious.


	7. Chapter 6: Something Wicked

Chapter 6: Something Wicked This Way Comes

Harry was surprised to be awakened early by someone shaking him gently. He shot up, startled, and turned to see Neville with a wide-eyed expression.

"Sorry, just, I was wondering if we were still going to be exercising in the mornings," the boy asked timidly.

"Oh, right," Harry said, rubbing his eyes. "I got out of the habit while I was at the Weasleys. But yeah, that would be a great idea. Give me a few minutes to get changed."

Neville nodded, and began to trudge down the stairs to the common room. Harry yawned, looking wistfully at his pillow, but then stood with a sigh. He had taken it easy over the summer, but he really did need to get back to his training schedule.

When he arrived in the common room, Neville was already hard at work, counting softly to himself as he did crunches.

Taking a few minutes to stretch his arms, Harry got down on his stomach and began to do push-ups. "So, did you exercise a lot over the summer?" he asked.

"Yeah, quite a bit. Gran was really surprised and pleased with how much better shape I'm in now. She normally doesn't want me to spend much time in the greenhouses, but she agreed that as long as I exercised each day, I could spend more time there. And I kind of like it. It's nice not to be… y'know… how I was before."

"That's great. So, things went well over the summer?"

"Better than most of the time," Neville replied. "What about you? I mean, except for everything with your…" his voice trailed off as he searched for the word.

"Emancipation?" Harry suggested.

"That's what it's called," The blonde boy said cheerfully.

"Things went pretty well," Harry replied, somewhat reluctantly. He didn't want to tell his friend that he had begun dosing his family with potions. That might not go over so well. Actually, Neville might not mind, but Hermione would never let him hear the end of it. "But it is nice to be back at Hogwarts."

"It certainly is," his friend agreed.

They finished their calisthenics after about 20 minutes and made their way down to the grounds to do some jogging. By the end, Harry was breathing pretty hard, but Neville was still going strong.

"Tables have really turned," he panted with a mock glare at Neville's smile. "You've certainly been keeping in shape."

"Well, I had a good teacher," Neville responded humbly as they made their way up the stairs.

Harry had pretty much recovered by the time they entered the common room. He had just set foot on the stair leading up to the dorms when a female voice stopped him.

"Harry! Can we talk for a minute?"

Harry turned in surprise to see Katie Bell looking at him, a somewhat uncomfortable expression on her face.

"Um, yeah, sure, Katie," he responded with a shrug. "Good job today, Neville, but I'll have my revenge tomorrow," he said with a smile as the other boy continued up the stairs. He walked over to where the chaser stood fidgeting a little bit. "What's up?"

Katie took a deep breath. "I talked with my parents over the summer about everything that happened last year, and they pointed out how unfair it all was. We were upset about what happened, but I realize now that it really wasn't your fault, and we shouldn't have blamed you. I wanted to apologize for that." Now she just looked completely miserable. "To be honest, I really don't care about the house cup, I was just kind of going along with what everybody else did. I mean, it was my first year on the team, and I really wanted to fit in with Angie and Alicia, but I realize that how we treated you was wrong. You certainly didn't deserve it, and… well, I'm sorry."

Harry was, to put it bluntly, stunned. He really couldn't remember the last time someone had actually apologized to him for something. Even after he started dosing the Dursleys with friend juice, they hadn't expressed regret for their previous behavior, they'd simply ignored it. "Uh, thanks for the apology. It was kind of a bad time all around, right? So, no hard feelings."

"Glad to hear it," Katie said with a smile, looking quite a bit more relaxed now. "You're a great seeker. I hope you're going to be on the team again this year. I mean, I understand why you didn't for the game against the 'Claws last year, but I'm hoping we can, kind of, y'know, start over."

"Yeah, well, I was planning on talking to Oliver about rejoining, so I guess we'll see."

"Great," came the reply. An awkward pause filled the air, neither really knowing what to say. "Well, I'll let you go get ready," Katie finally said with a little nod toward the stairs.

"Oh, yeah, that would be a good idea," Harry replied quickly. "Nice talking with you," he said before turning away and trotting up to the dorm.

* * *

Breakfast was as delicious as ever, though the stormy clouds on the ceiling were not quite as enjoyable. Especially when Professor McGongall delivered the class schedules, and Harry and his cohorts discovered that they had herbology first thing.

"Well, even if it does rain, at least we'll be in the greenhouses," Hermione said with forced cheer in her voice.

"Yeah, we'll just get soaked going to and from," Harry retorted.

Fortunately for the students, the expected rain never came. Instead, they were treated to an interesting lesson about a potentially murderous plant, something that Harry would never have imagined a year ago. _And they're having second years take care of this? _he thought with some trepidation.

Harry, Neville and Hermione had been joined by Ron, but there was no real opportunity for discussion. Instead, they focused on trying to force the obstinate mandrakes into the pots. It wasn't as effortless Professor Sprout made it look. Neville had the easiest time of it, his experience with plants giving him the magic touch, but the other three were struggling. Harry had to put all his weight into pushing one particularly fat mandrake into the soil, while Ron had taken to smacking his mandrake against the table a few times to get it to behave (which seemed to be drawing horrified looks from Lavender and Parvati, who were seated at the next table).

At last, class was over. It was with a relieved sigh that the students all exited the greenhouse and began the long walk up to their dorm for a chance to clean up a little before Transfiguration.

Harry hadn't practiced his spellcasting quite as much this summer as he had the last, but he had run through all of the required spells for second year. As such, the assignment Professor McGonagall gave them, to transfigure beetles into buttons, was quite simple. He amused himself by transfiguring more and more ornate buttons, though he was painfully aware that Neville and Ron were both struggling.

He was watching his friend's efforts, looking for any reason that the blonde boy might be having such a hard time, when he noticed something he hadn't previously realized. A glance over at Ron showed that both boys were using wands that looked much more beat up than his or Hermione's.

This thought continued to lurk in the back of his mind as the trio walked down to the great hall for lunch.

"Hey, Neville. Where did you get your wand?" Harry asked as they sat down.

Neville looked over at the dark-haired boy in confusion, then shrugged. "It was my dad's. My Gran let me use it so I could be as good at magic as he was. Not that it's helping much," he added softly.

Harry and Hermione shared concerned glances. "I don't think that's how wands work," Hermione said, with a surprising amount of tact.

"What do you mean?" Neville asked, a little defensively.

"Well, think of it like shoes," Harry suggested. "Suppose your dad was a famous runner, and had a really great pair of shoes that he wore all the time. If you want to be a great runner, you might see if the shoes work for you, but if they don't fit, then it would be better to get your own pair of shoes, wouldn't it? Better to get your own then to try to make do with something that doesn't really fit you."

"You don't think I'm worthy of my dad's wand?" Neville demanded angrily.

"Of course you are. But it's not a question of worth. When I bought my wand, Mister Ollivander said that I would never get as good of results with someone else's wand. Maybe that's part of your problem," Hermione responded soothingly.

"Try my wand," Harry suggested, holding it out for his friend. Neville looked at him for a moment uncertainly, before grasping the proffered handle. "Try levitating that spoon."

Neville performed the required swish and flick, while firmly stating the incantation, but nothing happened. "I didn't feel any magic at all," the boy said, a bit discouraged.

"Try mine," Hermione said, holding it out for her friend.

Once more, Neville took the wand, and tried the spell. This time, however, the spoon rose quickly, to the astonishment of all three students. Neville stopped the spell, and the spoon fell to the table with an almost musical clang.

"It worked," the boy said, startled.

"Was that better than with your normal wand?" Harry pressed.

"Loads better," Neville replied, still looking very distracted as he stared at the wand in his hand.

"So the problem isn't you. It's just that your Dad's wand isn't as good of a match for you," Hermione said, clearly delighted that they had solved the problem.

"But, I can't get a new wand now," Neville countered with a dejected look.

"Maybe not right now, but you could write to your Gran and arrange a time for you to go to Ollivanders," Harry suggested. Neville's grimace revealed what he thought of that idea. "Or, we could skip your Gran. Over Christmas, we'll meet in Diagon Alley, and I'll get you a new wand for your present this year."

Neville looked a little more enthusiastic about this option. "I'd still like to try things with my dad's wand, but if it hasn't gotten better by Christmas, then, sure, I'll take you up on that."

"Great," Harry replied.

* * *

Harry stared in shock and horror and the page in front of him. It was his first quiz for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Their teacher had taken the opportunity to ask life-saving questions such as 'What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?' and 'What Cambodian village erected a statue in honor of Gilderoy Lockhart in 1989?'. Somehow, Harry didn't think that any of the answers on the test would be particularly useful against anything more dangerous than one of Lockhart's fans.

_I knew he was going to be bad, but this is ridiculous! _The thought kept echoing through Harry's mind as he read through the questions. He didn't know any of the answers, but to be honest, he really didn't care. He quickly filled out the test with whatever random guesses came to mind before putting the quill down and sharing an exasperated look with Neville.

It didn't help either boy's opinion of things when it turned out that Hermione got a perfect score.

* * *

"Seriously, you're still defending him after that?" Neville asked, staring incredulously at his female friend. "He had absolutely no idea how to handle the pixies. _Pixies_, Hermione."

"He just wanted us to have some real, hands-on experience," the girl shot back.

"No, he's just incompetent," Harry responded.

"His teaching style may be somewhat unorthodox, but I'm sure that we can learn a great deal from him," Hermione replied firmly before walking briskly ahead.

Neville scoffed. "Right. Maybe I'll learn new methods of swinging from a chandelier."

* * *

After a discussion with Oliver and the other quidditch players, Harry did decide to rejoin the team. They had all decided to put the events of last year behind them, and Harry had even been magnanimous enough to decide to call Fred and George by their names, rather than referring to them as the beaters. Of course, since he couldn't tell them apart, it wasn't quite as big a gesture as it could have been, but they spent most of their time glued at the hip anyway, so it didn't really matter.

Harry was quite pleased that things had worked out. Despite everything that happened last year, he did enjoy playing quidditch. Of course, he was beginning to regret his decision when Oliver crept into his dorm to wake him up for early morning practice at the crack of dawn.

It was a bleary-eyed group of teens that stumbled into the locker room, where their captain enthusiastically showed them all the plays he had been working on over the summer.

"I can't believe he woke me up for this," Harry said softly, leaning over so that Katie could hear him.

"You think you have it bad? At least he came into your room to wake you up. Boys can't go up the girl's stairs, so instead, he sent a howler. Woke all the girls in my year up."

Harry turned to stare incredulously at the chaser, then turned his attention once more to the energetic sixth year in front of him. All of a sudden, Oliver's enthusiasm was beginning to look a whole lot more like obsession bordering on insanity.

* * *

"Malfoy, are you openly admitting that you had to bribe your way onto the quidditch team?" Harry stared at his nemesis in confusion, while absentmindedly wondering if he really should find a better archenemy. "That's not something to be proud of. If anything, that's kind of embarrassing."

"What would you know about it, Scarhead? You spent all summer with the Weasleys in their wretched little hovel!" the blond boy spat bitterly. "Not surprising they took you in. Probably thought it was their only chance to ever meet someone more pathetic than them."

As far as Harry was concerned, that was really one of the weaker insults he'd ever heard. One would think that a member of the house that supposedly embodied cunning would be able to come up with better taunts than that. Unfortunately, not everyone seemed to agree.

"You'll pay for that!" Ron shouted, drawing his wand. "Eat slugs," he yelled, and a jet of green light shot out of his wand, hitting Malfoy squarely in the stomach.

For a moment, there was total silence, as everyone stared. Then pandemonium began. Malfoy fell to his knees, coughing and choking until finally he vomited on the ground. Harry was disgusted to see several slugs had emerged from the boy's mouth. Shouts of anger erupted from the Slytherin team, and Flint and Montague snatched up their wands, but several of the Gryffindors, including Harry, were faster.

"We don't want a fight," Angelina said, her voice surprisingly steady. "Take Malfoy to the hospital wing. We'll take Ron to McGonagall, and tell her what he did."

For a minute, Flint looked like he wanted to argue, but nodded stiffly instead. He motioned curtly to Pucey and Bletchley, who grabbed their youngest teammate (who was still coughing up a steady stream of slugs) and began to make their way back to the castle.

They hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a dark shape emerged from the shadows under the stands.

"Bring him here," Snape ordered curtly. He pressed his wand to Draco's stomach and muttered something. Whatever spell Ron had used was cancelled, and Malfoy stood, fire in his eyes as he wiped something foul from his mouth and chin.

"Slytherin team will continue practice as usual. Gryffindor team is done for the day," came the cold voice. "And that will be 20 points from Gryffindor each for Potter and Weasley. And detention."

"And why am I being punished for Weasley's actions?" Harry demanded hotly. "I didn't cast a spell."

"Are you questioning my authority?" Snape asked, his voice quiet, and deceptively light.

"I didn't do anything that should result in a punishment," Harry responded tightly.

"I know what I saw," the greasy-haired man said with a smirk. "The punishment stands. Now the rest of you leave. If this sort of hooliganism happens again, I will have to speak with the Headmaster about whether or not Gryffindor house is even permitted to field a Quidditch team."

Harry ignored Oliver's indignant shouts that Ron wasn't even on the team, instead striding quickly across the field, destination firmly in mind.

* * *

"I have to admit that I am surprised you have come to me about this, Potter," Professor McGonagall said somewhat stiffly as she peered at him from behind her desk.

"I would say that if a head of house doesn't expect one of their students to come to them when they have a problem, that head of house is failing in his or her duties," Harry replied, his eyes narrowed. "But, given your actions last year, that's not much of a shock, is it?"

Harry could see his professor's mouth tighten in anger momentarily, but she made no response to Harry's jab.

"I will speak with Professor Snape," she finally said, "and we will go from there."

"And when he lies and says I cast a spell?"

The stern teacher paused for a moment, as though gathering her thoughts. "Mister Potter, I get the feeling that you do not expect anything to come of this meeting."

"After what happened last year, is that such a surprise? I was shunned for months, and you did nothing. Odd behavior for a head of house," Harry responded coldly.

"Mister Potter, you were caught fighting, and were appropriately punished. I cannot control how the other students react."

"No, I was found defending myself from an unprovoked attack. There is a very large difference," came the quick reply. "You punished me without bothering to find out the circumstances. Which makes you a hypocrite of the highest order."

"Mister Potter, just because someone disagrees with you does not make them a hypocrite," McGonagall replied angrily.

"It is my understanding that you were a member of Dumbledore's vigilante group, the Order of the Phoenix. Is that correct?"

"It was not a vigilante group, but yes, I was a member of the Order. Where did you learn about that?"

"Where I learned about it is irrelevant," Harry countered. "As a member of the Order of the Phoenix, did you ever leave Hogwarts to help defend against Death Eater attacks?"

McGonagall pursed her lips, clearly seeing where his questions were leading. "Yes, I did. And I will point out that the situation was very different from your circumstances."

"You defended against Death Eaters and would have protested if you had been arrested for fighting them. And yet you punished me for defending myself. As I said, you are a hypocrite."

The teacher said nothing for moment, before finally asking coldly, "Why are you here, Mister Potter? You clearly don't think that this meeting will accomplish anything."

"I am here because I was advised to protest and appeal any unjust punishment through official channels. First is a meeting with the head of house. If I am not satisfied at the conclusion of this meeting, I will proceed to send written notice of my concerns to the deputy headmistress, and then, the headmaster, and finally, the board of governors." Harry paused for a moment to look at his teacher. "In this particular instance, it seems a bit redundant to send a written notice to you since you are both my head of house and the deputy headmistress, but I was advised to follow the established procedure exactly."

"And what do you hope to accomplish with this course of action?"

Harry chuckled bitterly. "Well, I hope that you'll actually do your job, but I realize that's pretty unlikely. No, I'm doing this so that in the future when I tell people about my time in Hogwarts, the faculty will have no excuses. I'll be keeping a record, and someday, I'll find someone who will listen."

McGonagall sat back, a startled, and rather unnerved expression on her face. The expression faded however, replaced by a look of determination. "Regardless of your opinions on the matter, Mister Potter, Hogwarts discipline must be enforced. While I will speak with Professor Snape, for the time being, the punishment will stand."

Harry smiled coldly. "Well then, I'll put this one down on the list of undeserved punishments. Expect my formal, written protest in a day or two," he said as he stood and exited her office.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Snape insisted that Harry had, in fact, attempted to curse one of the Slytherin players during the chaos after Ron's attack, which is how the dark-haired boy found himself stuck in a room with an outrageously narcissistic 'adventurer'. Harry, of course, was quite confident by now that the only adventures the man had actually undertaken involved trying out new kinds of hairspray. Still, it wasn't exactly the worst punishment. He was a little surprised that Snape hadn't taken the opportunity to choose something even worse, but maybe even the greasy one knew not to push too hard.

Harry ignored the mindless babble coming from the supposed teacher, focusing instead on writing down one address after the other, wishing that the end would come soon.

"_Come… come to me… let me rip you… let me tear you… Let me kill you…"_

Harry bolted upright, startled out of his mindless drudgery. Unfortunately, it turned out that Lockhart hadn't heard the voice. Or at least, he _claimed_ not to have heard it. Perhaps he was merely acting innocent. _But that would imply that he isn't an egotistical buffoon after all_, Harry thought, momentarily startled. He cast his mind back, thinking over his interactions with the man. _Nobody could be that good of an actor, could they?_ The boy was still somewhat unsettled when he finally made it to the Gryffindor common room.

Not too surprisingly, Ron was still complaining about how unfair it was that he was punished for cursing a slimy git who 'deserved what he got'. Harry bit back the retort that at least Ron was being punished for something, unlike Harry who hadn't done anything wrong, but chose to just ignore the redhead and go up to bed. Still, the mystery of the cold, almost inhuman voice lingered in his mind for some time before sleep finally overtook him.

* * *

Weeks passed without any more suspicious incidents, and Harry was beginning to wonder if Dobby had been mistaken. He hadn't heard the creepy, menacing voice any other times, and by now was even starting to wonder if he had just imagined it. Or could it have been some sort of trick, or prank? Harry just wasn't sure what he thought anymore.

Peter's research into Lockhart was… ongoing. They still didn't know much about the man, beyond basic biographical facts. Harry had been surprised to find that the self-absorbed fool had been a Ravenclaw during his time at Hogwarts. Despite being housemates, however, Peter didn't remember much about the other man, who was a few years younger. He shared Harry's suspicions, however, finding it unlikely that the egotistical author had really accomplished everything he claimed. Peter had begun investigating the events involving a banshee near Bandon, Ireland which Lockhart claimed to have vanquished, hoping for proof that the man was a fraud. Unfortunately, the investigation thus far had revealed that Lockhart's book, _Break with a Banshee_, was fairly accurate.

Classes were continuing as usual. As expected, Harry's written protests regarding Snape's accusations hadn't produced any obvious result, but there hadn't been any further conflict. Harry's diligent work in studying ahead, in addition to the nights he had spent over the summer in Timeland meant that he was already well ahead of the other students (with the exception of Hermione), so outside of class he continued to focus on learning combat spells.

In short, things were going quite well for Harry and his friends, which is why, as he followed the startled screams of the students leaving the Halloween feast, he was cursing himself for being lulled into a sense of complacency.

"Enemies of the heir, beware! You'll be next, mudbloods!" Draco Malfoy cried gleefully.

Suppressing his outrage that Malfoy could so casually use a racial slur in front of several prefects without punishment, Harry chose instead to focus on the writing on the wall, and the immobile cat hanging above a puddle of water.

Curiosity about the supposed "Chamber of Secrets" warred with irritation that once more, something unpleasant had occurred on Halloween. But one thought kept running through Harry's mind.

_I guess Dobby was right. Something's going on, and Malfoy is involved._

* * *

A/N – I'm not trying to make McGonagall completely oblivious to the conflict between Harry and Snape. Just like in the books, she knows that Snape isn't being completely fair to Harry. However, like in the books, she's not going to do anything about it. While some people may have different ideas, I've always interpreted this not as evidence of maliciousness on her part, but instead a result of her extreme willingness to follow Dumbledore, who, as we all know, firmly backs Snape. I also envision her as the type of strict disciplinarian who would take the approach of 'respect the office, not the man'.

Also, note that Harry didn't get in trouble from Filch, meaning he didn't read about Kwikspell, he didn't attend the Deathday party, and the Vanishing Cabinet is still operational.


	8. Chapter 7: Dobby Returns

Chapter 7: Dobby Returns

"Well, that was less than helpful," Harry said out loud as he set his copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ on the desk in front of him. He leaned back in the chair, letting out a groan as he stared at the ceiling.

He had come to Timeland as soon as the other boys in the dorm were asleep, which had taken quite a bit longer than Harry would have liked. Not surprising, given the rather shocking conclusion to the Halloween feast. Everyone had stayed up talking about what they had seen, making guesses about what had caused it.

While Ron and Seamus both agreed that it would be good to have that mangy cat out of the way, Neville and Dean were more concerned about the potential threat. After all, the next victim might be a person, not a pet. Harry had remained more or less silent, not wanting to prolong the conversation.

Harry's intent had been to research everything there was to learn about the Chamber of Secrets, hoping that the library in Timeland would have some real information he could use. Unfortunately, that knowledge basically amounted to one paragraph with less real substance than one of Lockhart's books. And that was saying something.

_So, Slytherin may or may not have created a secret chamber housing a monster that may or may not be dedicated to eliminating the unworthy._ Harry pondered that thought for a moment. There was no definite explanation for what would constitute 'unworthiness'. The common perception was blood status, but he knew that wasn't the only possibility. After all, according to several of the old history books, the pureblood movement had come about after the Statute of Secrecy was enacted. Not surprisingly, those same history books were no longer available in regular bookstores.

Harry shifted forward in the chair and stared at the very uninformative book on his desk. There was no real evidence that this was anything other than a rather disturbing joke. However, he still felt it was necessary to treat it as a real threat.

He thought for a moment about contacting Madam Bones, but ultimately decided against that option. No doubt she would be notified by her niece, Susan. And he had a suspicion that she would just tell him to do nothing and wait. But he'd had enough of that lately.

He pulled a sheet of paper out and laid it on the desk in front of him. He tapped his pen against his lips a few times, thinking hard. Uncle Vernon had once said that it was easiest to think things through when you write it down and make a list.

"What is the creature?" he wrote, then paused to think.

"How is it controlled?" was the next question.

"Where is the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Who is controlling it?"

Harry paused, looking back at the questions he had just written. He knew that there were more parts to this mystery, but these seemed to be the key issues. If he could find an answer to these questions, that should eliminate the potential threat.

The problem, of course, was that he didn't seem to have any clues that would allow him to find the answers he was looking for. He didn't know exactly what had happened to Mrs. Norris, and there were no hints about what kind of monster it was. And it was highly unlikely that he would be able to figure out a way for the beast to be controlled if he didn't know what kind of creature it was in the first place.

He turned his attention to the third question. Hogwarts was a very large building, with hidden hallways, sentient staircases, disappearing doors, and other obstacles that would make a thorough search almost impossible. But it probably wouldn't be in an area that was heavily traveled. Harry suppressed a snort at the idea of Slytherin's Monster sneaking out of the Great Hall.

The last question held Harry's interest for quite a bit longer. Somehow, Lucius Malfoy was involved, but Harry doubted that he had snuck into Hogwarts to orchestrate the attack directly. More likely the monster was being controlled by someone in the school. There were two main possibilities – a student, or a teacher.

A teacher would be more likely to have the necessary skills, but all the professors had been at the feast. Perhaps the creature could be left to its own devices after having been given instructions?

Harry sat upright, startled as another detail came to mind. _The message on the wall!_ He thought triumphantly. That proved that a person had been there. Unless the creature was smart enough to write in English, which seemed extremely unlikely.

_So it's not one of the professors_, he mused silently. That meant it was probably a student. Almost certainly one of the upper years, probably sixth or seventh year. Likely a Slytherin, but not necessarily. After all, he didn't know why the person was doing this. Malfoy could be blackmailing someone, or paying them.

But if it was a student, that gave Harry an avenue of investigation to pursue.

* * *

Harry crept out of the Gryffindor dorm, ignoring the Fat Lady as he silently made his way down the hall. Once he had turned a corner, he double checked to ensure that there were no portraits watching, then pulled off the invisibility cloak and mounted his trusty Nimbus 2000, then put the cloak back on. It was a little tricky to fly the broom while wearing the cloak and holding the Hand of Glory, but he made it work.

Peeves had been happy to tell Harry the locations of the other house dormitories in exchange for a few extra dungbombs, and now Harry was going to put that knowledge to use.

He went to Ravenclaw first, being the closest. Flying high to avoid detection, he quickly found the knocker the poltergeist had described. He flew up to the ceiling, finding a little nook up against one of the walls that created a shadow deep enough that it interfered with the visibility in that area. Reaching into his bag, he grabbed one of the omnioculars and the duct tape. Activating the record function on the omnioculars, he fastened it securely to the wall, taking a little extra time to ensure that the entrance to the dorm would be within the field of view. Once he was satisfied that his makeshift security camera was in place, he moved on to the next dorm.

Setting up surveillance on the Hufflepuff dorm was even easier, as it was located in a little offshoot of the corridor that lead to the kitchens. The Slytherin dorms, however, were not so easy. Harry stared at the blank, featureless wall that would (according to Peeves) open into the Slytherin common room when the appropriate password was given. The walls in this area were completely plain (not surprising, given that this was technically part of the dungeon) and the ceiling was relatively low, which prevented Harry from hiding the omnioculars here as he had at the other dormitories. He wandered the area for several minutes, finally deciding to use two pairs of omnioculars to monitor the intersections that bracketed the hallway. He was painfully aware that this meant his observation was much more limited, and he was just hoping that there wasn't a secret passage in the hall that he wasn't aware of, but it was the best he could do for now.

On his way back to Gryffindor tower, he paused to… borrow… the vanishing cabinet on the second floor. Harry was a little bit torn about this decision. After all, it was technically stealing, but given Dumbledore's willingness to disregard the law, Harry felt a little turnabout was fair play. And as he studied the magical device carefully, he became more and more convinced that this was, in fact, a match to the cabinet he had bought over the summer at Borgin and Burkes. The two cabinets looked exactly alike, every detail matching from what Harry could recall. Of course, he wouldn't know for sure until he tested it out, but that could wait until he was back safe in the dorm.

He unshrunk a space expanded box he had brought specifically for this purpose, then carefully lowered his newest acquisition inside. In some ways, it seemed odd that there was no real security around such a valuable object, but Harry certainly wasn't going to complain.

He finally made it back to the tower, where he took the time to affix another of his improvised security cameras high on the wall a little way down the corridor. As much as he would like to think that no Gryffindor would be working with Malfoy, he couldn't discount the possibility.

It was a tired, but satisfied Harry Potter that slipped back into the second-year dorm. He looked briefly at his bed, but realized that there were just a few hours to go until he would be getting up to do his daily exercises with Neville. Not enough time for a good night's sleep under normal conditions. Fortunately, Harry had other options.

He made his way quickly over to Timeland, pausing to deposit the Hogwarts vanishing cabinet next to the one he had purchased over the summer, then went to his room to go to bed. Thanks to the accelerated flow of time here, he would get a good night's sleep while just minutes passed in the real world.

* * *

The days passed quickly, but the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets was all anybody could talk about. Hermione and Neville discussed it frequently over meals, with Hermione lamenting the fact that she had been forced to leave her copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ behind to make room for Lockhart's books. Harry hadn't told anybody at school about the warning Dobby had given him, so he was quite amused when Ron began accusing Malfoy of being behind the attack. Even without any evidence, the redheaded Gryffindor was just sure 'that slimy snake' was responsible. Of course, given how Malfoy acted, that wasn't difficult to believe.

Still, Harry's refusal to help Ron prove that the blond Slytherin was guilty had resulted in the youngest Weasley boy vowing to uncover the truth. Harry wasn't sure if he should be amused, or concerned, at what the boy might do in his quest. Whatever it was, Harry had no real intention of sticking his nose in. People were already eyeing him askance, for no real reason that he could see. He had no desire to get involved any more than he already was. Hopefully, if there was another attack, his omniocular security cameras would have proof, and that would take care of things nicely.

* * *

Friday afternoon brought with it a very welcome surprise. Harry stared at the message Peter had sent him.

_Have proof L is a fraud. Need to meet. _

Harry couldn't take his eyes off the message as his mind raced, wondering exactly what kind of proof his friend had found. He thought for a moment. Tomorrow was the first game of the year, Gryffindor versus Slytherin. There was usually a party in the common room after a Quidditch game, to either celebrate the victory or mourn the loss. It was usually chaotic enough that nobody would notice if he slipped off after an hour or so. Looking around to make sure he wasn't be observed, he quickly replied.

_Tomorrow 11pm 3 Broomsticks? _

Peter's reply came quickly, confirming the plan. Harry turned his attention back to his schoolwork, still wondering what exactly Peter had discovered.

* * *

Saturday dawned bright and clear, but by the time the game rolled around at eleven o'clock, the weather had turned a little less pleasant. It wasn't quite raining, but the air was thick with humidity, and the dark clouds gathering overhead were not at all encouraging.

Of course, if a little rain was all that Harry had to contend with, he would count himself a lucky man. That, unfortunately, was not the case.

He cursed as he dodged to one side, the bludger that had been following him the whole time passing just inches away as he performed a dangerous spin followed by a sloth-grip roll. A rebellious part of his mind pointed out that he really owed Oliver an apology for complaining about all those drills he'd forced the seeker to do, for it was all that practice that was now allowing him to stay on his broom.

He shot to the side, then quickly swerved back the way he had come as the bludger made another pass. He tried closing in on Malfoy, hoping that if the bludger missed him, it might hit the other seeker, but abandoned that strategy after several minutes. Zigzagging frantically, ignoring the jeers and scornful laughter from the green-clad spectators, Harry did his best to search for the elusive Snitch, hoping to find it and end the game quickly.

His efforts were hampered as the rain began to fall, but he refused to be discouraged. Malfoy was being a fool, choosing to taunt Harry rather than take advantage of the opportunity to look for the Snitch unhindered.

A moment's hesitation was all that it took. Harry stifled a scream as the bludger smashed into his arm, but he stayed focused on his goal. Shooting toward Malfoy, a distant part of his mind laughing at the terrified look on the other boy's face, he corkscrewed around the Slytherin to snatch the golden ball out of the air.

He frantically tried to regain control of the broom as he accelerated toward the ground, but it was not an easy task with his one good hand still firmly clutching the snitch. He managed to pull up in time, turning his nose-dive into the most undignified landing imaginable, as he tumbled head over heels before finally coming to a stop.

_At least the worst is over_, he thought as he saw a knot of Gryffindors rushing over. A sinking feeling spread over him as he saw that Lockhart was leading the charge, a broad smile on his face.

* * *

Harry stared at his de-boned arm, horrified at the rubbery glove his limb had been turned into. Madam Pomfrey's promises that she could regrow the bones were not quite enough to reassure the boy. _Peter had better have some very good evidence,_ he thought angrily, wincing from the shooting pains running up and down his arm. _If not, I'll just have to challenge the idiot to a duel to get him out of this school._

It had been difficult, but he had managed to scrawl out a message to Peter cancelling their meeting that night. He also instructed his friend to begin researching the Chamber of Secrets. After all, he had a plan in place, but it never hurt to have a backup.

Harry slowly drifted off into a very restless and uncomfortable sleep.

The feeling of someone sponging his forehead in the dark brought Harry to immediate wakefulness. Despite his still-aching arm, Harry was about to attack his unexpected visitor when he recognized the large eyes barely visible in the darkness.

"Dobby!" he cried in anger and surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Dobby warned and warned Harry Potter," the little elf said with a sniffle, "but Harry Potter didn't heed Dobby's warning! Why didn't Harry Potter go back home when he missed the train?"

Harry sat up, still moving awkwardly. "How did you know…" he began, his voice full of suspicion, before he found the answer to his question. "It was you! You stopped the barrier from letting us through!"

Dobby nodded vigorously, even though his lip trembled. "Dobby waited and watched, but Harry Potter found another way to school. But now Harry Potter must return home! Dobby thought his bludger would be enough to…"

"Your bludger?" Harry demanded, cutting the elf off, his voice rising in anger. "Your bludger! You did this to me?"

"Better that Harry Potter be sent home, grievously injured, than remain here to die! Dobby is trying to save Harry Potter!"

"If this is about whatever your master is planning, I've got it under control," Harry said, though inwardly he had to acknowledge that he may be exaggerating just a little bit. Still, if it got rid of the stupid house-elf, a little lie could be forgiven.

This seemed to startle the elf, who stared at the boy with a mixture of hope and disbelief. "Harry Potter has… found it?"

Harry, of course, had no idea what the little being was talking about, but wasn't about to admit that. "Yes, I've found it. I think. I need to make sure, but I can't do that as long as you're interfering with my plans," he improvised.

Dobby began to tear up. "Dobby should have had more faith in Harry Potter. But how can Dobby be sure that Harry Potter has truly solved the problem?"

Harry thought desperately. "I can't be sure yet. Can you come back and meet me one week from today. We can combine what I know with what you know, and then we'll be sure that it's really dealt with, okay? If not, then we'll discuss the possibility of me leaving."

Dobby still looked a little unsure, but in the end nodded, his long ears flapping wildly. "Dobby will return in one week," he agreed before disappearing with a crack.

Harry laid back on the bed, trying to ignore the pain in his arm. He had bought himself one week. He just hoped that he could solve the mystery by then, or there was no telling what the crazy house-elf would do next.

Footsteps in the hallway drew his attention, and he pulled the sheets over his shoulder, deliberately positioning himself so that he could see the door. He was careful to remain still as the doors opened and Dumbledore and McGonagall entered, each grasping one end of a statue, which they lowered carefully onto a bed.

Harry remained motionless as Madam Pomfrey joined them, listening attentively to their hushed conversation.

A thrill ran down his spine as he thought about what he had heard. Another attack. And since he knew that Colin had been alright earlier, it was likely that whoever was responsible had snuck out of the dorm, which meant that his cameras might have caught the culprit in action.

Maybe his promise to Dobby hadn't been such a bluff after all.


	9. Chapter 8: Problem Solved

Chapter 8: Problem Solved

When he was finally released the next day, it took all of Harry's willpower to go through his regular Sunday schedule, rather than rushing off to gather the omnioculars right away. There was just too much risk of someone seeing him, especially since there was no real rush. It was highly unlikely that there would be another attack so soon, and the omnioculars could record 100 hours, so there was no concern of the recording somehow being deleted.

So rather than proceeding with his investigation, Harry instead found himself playing a few games of chess with Weasley, catching up on some assignments with Hermione and Neville, and somehow getting involved in a spur-of-the-moment exploding snap tournament in the Gryffindor common room. That's not to say that he was actually focusing on what he was doing, of course. Instead, he spent the whole day thinking of possible suspects (which basically amounted to all the Slytherins he knew, with the possible exception of some of the more neutral ones like Greengrass or Davis) and how he could prove their guilt. After all, even if they did sneak out at night, that could just be a coincidence. He didn't know much about law, but even he knew that any sort of punishment would require more evidence than an omniocular recording of them leaving their dorm.

Hermione and Neville were not unaware of his distracted state, with Hermione even going so far as to suggest, after he had lost five straight hands in the tournament (much to the displeasure of his partner, Dean) that he might want to go back to Madam Pomfrey, given that his inability to focus may be a symptom of some more insidious problem. Harry wanted to roll his eyes at that comment, but realized that it was just Hermione being concerned for him, and let it slide. In any case, it was time for dinner, and that meant that Harry's chance to finally gather the makeshift security cameras was drawing near.

Fortunately, nobody questioned it when Harry begged off any further activities on the guise of turning in early. Surprisingly, he did manage to fall asleep for several hours. When he woke and checked his watch, however, all weariness fled. It was just after one o'clock, and he had things to do.

Sneaking out of the dorm was getting to be second nature by now, but he still hoped to find some way out that didn't disturb the fat lady. After all, he wasn't sure how much he could trust her to keep his night-time meanderings a secret. That, however, was a problem for another day.

While placing the omnioculars had taken more than an hour, gathering them was much quicker. Less than 20 minutes after he left, he was back in the Gryffindor common room, his body filled with anticipation at the thought that the mystery would finally be solved.

He rushed up the stairs to the second-year dormitory and checked to ensure that the other boys were still asleep, then quickly resized the trunk and climbed into the vanishing cabinet.

As always, the familiar and comforting sight of the entry hall in timeland helped to calm him down. He walked quickly to the office, opened the backpack holding the omnioculars and studied them carefully, thinking. He had no real way of knowing precisely when the attack occurred, but presumably it wouldn't have taken long for Colin to travel from Gryffindor tower to the hospital wing, even if he had to slow down a bit to remain undetected. So, by watching the Gryffindor recording first, he should be able to get a rough timeframe of the attack.

There was no easy way to cue the omnioculars to a certain time. Instead, Harry started at the most recent, and rewound at the highest possible speed. The passage of time was easy to observe, but it was still very boring work. Omnioculars had never been intended to be used this way, after all, and by Harry's estimate, the rewind function only operated at about twenty times normal speed. Finally, after more than an hour, he had the recording in about the right place, and slowed down a bit. He still almost missed it, for there was no warning when the small first year finally appeared. Harry, watching the whole thing in reverse, saw Colin sprint backwards toward the portrait guarding the entrance, which swung open as he drew closer, then shut even faster.

Harry put the omnioculars on the table, fumbling for a moment to find the control to pause the playback. He finally found the knob he was looking for, then held the device up to his eyes again, this time watching at regular speed. He knew that in the time it had taken to stop rewinding he had gone too far, so it would probably be several minutes before Colin made his appearance. So it was with a great deal of surprise that Harry saw the portrait swing open less than a minute later. And of course, he was even more startled when he recognized who had just exited the common room.

Harry paused the playback, and set the omnioculars on the desk. _Why was Ginny Weasley sneaking out of the dorms? She couldn't possibly be the one doing this, could she?_ Try as he might, Harry just couldn't see the exceptionally shy girl as the mastermind behind the two attacks. And how could an eleven-year-old girl from a very light family possibly have learned such dark magic that neither Madam Pomfrey nor Dumbledore could counter it?

Mind still whirling, Harry turned his attention back to the task at hand. It was entirely possible that Ginny was just a victim of circumstance. Perhaps she had snuck out for some other reason. _But when did she go back into the tower? _

Harry turned the playback on once more, watching at regular speed as Colin exited the dorm, peering cautiously down the darkened hallway before making his way out of the frame. It was almost a full hour before Ginny finally reappeared, pausing only to cast a strange, yellow spell at the portrait as it opened before darting inside. The whole thing was so quick, it was no real surprise that he had missed it the first time around. After all, Ginny's reentry into the dorm only took about 5 seconds real time, which meant that it would have been a quarter second when he was reviewing it at twenty times normal speed.

He paused the recording and set it down on the table, rubbing his forehead in frustration as he thought deeply about what he had just seen. Grabbing a pen, and the paper with his list of questions from the last time he was down here, he began to make notes.

"Ginny Weasley left the Gryff dorm shortly before Colin, and reappeared about an hour later. Did she know he was going to leave? How?"

"Used unknown spell on Fat Lady. What spell? Something to erase F.L.'s memory to keep from being reported? How did she learn it?"

Harry set the pen down and looked back at what he had written. If Ginny really was the one behind it all, that raised more questions than it answered. His eyes wandered over to the backpack holding the other omnioculars. It was possible that Ginny was innocent. Before focusing too much on her, he should check the other recordings to see if anyone else had been sneaking out.

* * *

Never before had Harry been so grateful for the accelerated time there in the vault. While he knew it was important, watching the recordings was unbelievably boring. Even though he had been able to rewind the devices at the same time, he still had to watch each one individually, concentrating carefully to ensure that he didn't miss anything, as he had with Ginny's return to the dorm the first time through.

Several times he stopped to stretch, or grab a bite to eat. After about three hours, he realized that he just couldn't focus any longer, and stopped to get some shut-eye. He awoke refreshed, and, after a hearty breakfast of granola bars and some trail mix from his emergency kit, resigned himself to watching the remaining recordings. When it was time for lunch, he stopped, and went to exercise a little bit in the small gym before returning to the task at hand.

Five hours later, he set the last pair of omnioculars on the desk, and reviewed the notes that he had taken.

A Hufflepuff boy had snuck out at approximately 11:30, likely intending to meet up with the girl from Slytherin who had snuck out about the same time. Given that both returned to their dorms an hour later, arriving within a few minutes of each other, it seemed unlikely that either was involved in the attack on Colin, which had taken place sometime after one o'clock.

Fred and George had snuck out of the Gryffindor dorm around ten o'clock but returned within fifteen minutes.

Nobody had entered or exited the Ravenclaw dorm.

Harry sat back in the chair, sighing heavily. The timing was just too close to ignore. He didn't know how, and he certainly didn't know why, but he knew that Ginny Weasley was involved in the attacks.

As he watched the recording again, hoping for clues that might shed some light on her behavior, Harry saw something he had not previously noticed – a small, black book that the young girl clutched tightly in her left hand. As he studied this, something Dobby had said came back to mind.

"Harry Potter has found it?" he repeated aloud, a smile growing on his face as everything seemed to fit together. _It must be some sort of enchanted object, allowing Malfoy to control Ginny, _he realized. If there was one thing that Harry had learned from his mother's notes, it was that there was a real danger with any sort of enchantment from an untrustworthy source, part of why he was being so careful with everything that he bought from Borgin and Burkes, and to a lesser extent, the other stores as well.

Memories of his trip to Diagon Alley with the Weasleys flashed through his mind. Lucius Malfoy had been acting quite strangely, getting into a fistfight with Arthur Weasley. In fact, he had grabbed Ginny's schoolbooks. Harry almost groaned as he remembered the incident. It would have been quite easy to slip the unremarkable black book into the cauldron without anybody noticing.

He stood, and began pacing as he thought. He still didn't have any real evidence. All of his facts thus far could be explained away as mere happenstance. And he wasn't sure he wanted to inform Madam Bones of his discovery. After all, he wasn't even sure how much she was investigating, and it was likely that if he did tell her, it would get back to Dumbledore, which he wanted to avoid if possible.

Which left only one course of action – solve the problem himself. If he got ahold of the book, Malfoy couldn't use it to control Ginny anymore.

He looked over at the clock. He'd been here for almost a full day, but it was still only about two o'clock in the real world. Even if he wanted to be back in the dorm by six o'clock to exercise with Neville, that still gave him 12 days in timeland to find a solution to this particular problem.

He quickly discarded the idea of stunning Ginny sometime during the day and taking the book out of her bag. There was no guarantee that the girl would be carrying it, and anything that overt had a good chance of getting him in trouble, even if he managed to successfully acquire the book. No, this was a task that would require a high degree of secrecy. He needed to find a way to sneak up to Ginny's dorm at night to get the book.

The problem there, of course, was that there were, according to _Hogwarts: A History_, gender specific wards preventing boys from going up the staircase into the girl's dormitories. _A bit sexist_, Harry thought, given that there were no such wards on the boy's staircase.

He munched on some trail mix as he considered the problem he faced. Supposedly, the stairs would turn into a slide, and a loud alarm would sound if a boy tried to gain entry. It was unlikely that something as simple as flying a broom up would work. That would defeat the slide part of the problem, but there was no reason to assume that it wouldn't trip the alarm.

He walked over to the kitchen to get a drink, still thinking deeply. Presumably, the ward was located somewhere near the bottom of the staircase. Was there some way to bypass it? Possibly transfigure the wall to have a hole in it leading up to the first landing? It seemed unlikely, but it was still a possibility.

He smiled as another thought came to mind. Running over to the room where he kept the enchanted artifacts, he studied the two vanishing cabinets he had acquired, one from Borgin and Burkes, the other from Hogwarts itself. They seemed to match. If they did, he could levitate one up the staircase, then travel through it. First though, he needed to see if they really were connected.

A minute later, Harry was both pleased and appalled to discover that the two vanishing cabinets were, in fact, a pair. Pleased, because he now had another set of cabinets that he could use whenever he needed. And appalled at the thought that a secret backdoor into Hogwarts had been sitting for several years in a shop dedicated to the dark arts, just waiting for anyone to come and buy it. _So much for Hogwarts being the safest place in magical Britain_, the dark-haired boy thought scornfully.

_So, I could levitate one of the cabinets up the stairs, then use the other to bypass the ward. But if that doesn't work, and the alarm still sounds, it would be difficult for me to get the cabinet back undetected. _Harry frowned at this thought. That was a pretty big risk. The cabinets may be a solution, but perhaps he could find a better one.

He yawned, amazed at how tired he was, given that he had been sitting for most of the day. Of course, it was a very stressful, tense sort of sitting, watching those recordings trying to figure out who was attacking people at Hogwarts. He walked over to his bedroom, and began to undress. Perhaps a good night's sleep would give him a new perspective on his present challenge.

* * *

Harry awoke refreshed, but as he faced his fourth straight meal of granola bars and trail mix, resolved to get a supply of more filling food the next time he intended to spend long periods in timeland. Still, he was determined to find a way up that staircase.

A few hours spent perusing the library had allowed Harry to find a book with instructions on how to place a gender ward. There was, of course, no guarantee that the ward in the book was the same ward on the stair, but it didn't really matter as the magic was well beyond Harry's current capabilities, either to create or remove. Still, it had given Harry a better idea of what he likely faced.

From what he could tell, there appeared to be two general ways that wards could be applied. Boundary wards established a line around the perimeter, while area wards monitored everything inside the region. And given that the method in the book created an area ward, he had to assume that was the case here. _Which means that the vanishing cabinet idea won't work. I'd trip the ward as soon as I got out_, he thought morosely.

In short, from what he could tell, only a girl would be able to go into the girl's dormitories without setting off the alarm. He considered briefly but then rejected the idea of asking one of the girls he knew to get the book for him. Hermione would insist on telling the professors, and he highly doubted that the Chasers would steal something from Fred and George's little sister without a very good explanation.

_So, unless I have a way to turn myself into a girl, I don't have a chance._ As loathe as he was to give up, Harry was still a realist. He was considering how best to contact Madam Bones when his previous thought echoed through his mind again.

"I do have a way to turn myself into a girl," he whispered, amazed as a solution came to mind. He rushed into the potions laboratory, staring at the cabinet holding vials of potions in stasis. He smiled at the sight of more than a dozen vials of dark brown Polyjuice Potion. Now he just needed a hair.

* * *

Harry looked down from the dormitory window. The second-year boys were at the very top of Gryffindor Tower, so it was a rather nerve-wracking view. He had heard that the windows around the tower were enchanted to prevent brooms from working near them, but that wasn't an obstacle for him. He gave a careful tug on the end of the rope he had affixed to his bed, double checking that it was secure. After all, a fall from this height would almost certainly kill him, unless he managed some accidental magic like Neville had talked about so long ago.

Taking a deep breath, he climbed out the window and grabbed hold of the bag. "Down," he commanded quietly, and the enchanted bag obeyed. Thirty seconds later, his feet were once more on solid ground, and he let out the breath he had been holding.

Harry dashed over to the Gryffindor locker room, suppressing a sudden swell of unease as he began to search through his teammates' things. Fortunately, it didn't take long to find what he was looking for.

_Probably Katie's,_ he thought as he studied the long, dark brown hair. That was good. Katie was the closest in size to him, so he could still wear his robes.

He carefully placed the hair in his pocket, then rushed back to where the rope was hanging from Gryffindor tower. He held on for dear life as the rope pulled him back up, and climbed in with surprising stealth. A quick check over at the other boys confirmed that his little excursion had gone unnoticed.

Harry paused for a moment, reviewing his plan once more. He would take the potion, then try the staircase, while wearing the invisibility cloak. If the alarm still sounded, he would rush back up to his room and take a vial of Polyjuice with one of his own hairs so that he wouldn't be caught looking like Katie when McGonagall inevitably investigated. He double-checked to ensure that the vial and the hair were easily placed on the nightstand by his bed.

To ensure that he had plenty of time to search, he would cut the strand of Katie's hair in two, and if he hadn't found what he was looking for within 50 minutes, would take a second vial. He hoped it wouldn't come to that. After all, he had a limited supply of Polyjuice, and while he had never done so himself, he knew that it wasn't an easy potion to brew.

He made his way down to the common room, pausing for a moment at the bottom of the stair, ears straining for any noise that might indicate someone was still awake. After several tense seconds, he took a deep breath and swallowed the potion, which had turned a brilliant blue color when he added the hair.

His insides started writhing, and a burning sensation spread from his stomach to the rest of his body. He fell to the ground, gasping, yet still trying to be as quiet as possible. As suddenly as it began, the pain suddenly stopped. He stood up, trying to get his heart under control.

As he straightened, he realized that the room was strangely blurry. Reaching up, he removed his glasses, and everything sprung back into focus. He shifted, his current body feeling strangely off balance. He reached up, his hands pressing against his chest, then froze as he realized what the mounds he was currently holding were.

Harry's hands shot to his sides, and he swallowed deeply, trying to distract himself from the thought that he had just been grabbing Katie's breasts. He was fully aware that the potion had also made some changes between his legs as well, but he forced himself to not think about that. The idea that it would be so easy to go find a mirror and see what she looked like… he tore himself away from that thought, concentrating on the task at hand. He was doing this to get the enchanted book, not to spy on his friend's body without her knowledge.

He took a deep breath, then began to walk up the stairs, half expecting that the alarm would sound at any time. Luck, however, was on his side. It seemed that the Polyjuice potion tricked the gender ward.

Assuming that the first-year girls were on the same level as the first-year boys, Harry checked the lowest dormitory first. Sure enough, when he opened the door, he could see the small figures of Ginny and her three roommates. Ginny's long, red hair was especially obvious, even in the dim moonlight.

He studied the girls carefully, checking that they really were asleep. Fortunately, there was no indication that any of them would be waking any time soon. Ginny herself was snoring lightly, one hand beneath her pillow.

It was easy to tell which trunk was hers. Given that almost everything she owned was second hand, Harry had no trouble identifying her belongings from the other girls'. Unfortunately, as he quickly yet quietly searched through her trunk and her book bag, there was no sign of the book in question.

Biting back a curse, Harry glanced at his watch, and, realizing that the time was almost up, prepped another vial of Polyjuice with the other half of Katie's hair. He took the potion even before the first dose wore off, hoping to avoid the unpleasant sensation of transforming into someone else.

He resumed his search, looking for other places where Ginny may have put the enchanted book. Still, after another quarter hour of searching, he was beginning to grow desperate. As he quietly closed the drawer in the nightstand by Ginny's bed, ignoring the frustration he felt at yet another failure, he happened to glance over at the girl, still sleeping soundly. And that was when he noticed something poking out from underneath her pillow.

His breath caught for a moment, but as he looked closer, he could just make out a small, black book corner. Careful not to wake the girl, he reached over, and gently pulled the book out of her grasp. Harry froze in momentary panic as Ginny stirred briefly when the item finally slipped through her fingers, but she settled down quickly.

Retreating back from the beds, Harry silently opened the door and stole back down the stairs to the common room, his hands shaking a little from the adrenaline. He held the book up, studying it carefully. Even with the lamps in the common room burning low, there was enough light to see if he looked closely. The book was shabby, and clearly quite old. But it was when he opened the front cover that he got the real surprise.

The words "T.M. Riddle," could be seen, even in the faint light. Harry felt his heart begin to thud heavily in his chest, and he nearly dropped the book in shock as he recognized the name of his parents' top suspect for the identity of Lord Voldemort.

* * *

A/N – Not the most action-packed chapter, but I do think it is important to see Harry's thought process as he solves problems. Too often in the books he just waits for Deus-Ex-Hermione to do the thinking for him. (That's not disrespecting Hermione, just pointing out that having the main character stand around dumbly while someone else figures out the answers gets a little old)

Regarding his parents knowing who Voldemort was, remember that they got copies of Hogwarts records while trying to identify Death Eaters. So when they find a supposed muggleborn with an unusual middle name who was an absolute genius at magic, became a leader in Slytherin house during a time when many of the earliest Death Eaters attended, and then vanished a few years before 'Lord Voldemort' appeared, it's not too much of a stretch to think that they figured it out. Especially if Dumbledore was in the habit at that time of calling Tom by name, as he does during the fight in book 5.

Now, a question for all of you – what are your thoughts on Fudge and Umbridge? In book 3, Fudge seems to think it possible for Voldemort to return, but he refuses to consider the possibility 18 months later. Was that just a screw-up on JKR's part, or is there some reasoning behind it? And if Umbridge is as unpleasant and talentless as she appears, how did she get to such a high post in the ministry? Why does Fudge keep her around? Many stories I've read say that Umbridge has a bunch of blackmail on people, but I'm always interested in other explanations.

Thanks for reading, and for sharing your ideas!


	10. Chapter 9: Dueling in December

Chapter 9: Dueling in December

The next day, Harry did his best to keep an eye on Ginny without being noticed. This wasn't an easy task, given that the weekend was over, and he obviously didn't share any classes with the first years. From what he could tell, she was pale and withdrawn, always looking around nervously. Certainly not ideal, but hopefully she would get better soon. He would just have to continue to monitor her when possible.

He had absolutely no idea what the diary really was. His original thought that Malfoy had enchanted it to take over Ginny seemed a bit unlikely. After all, why would Lucius Malfoy have written the name of a former Head Boy who likely went on to become Lord Voldemort? Harry knew that, claims of imperius notwithstanding, Lucius Malfoy had almost certainly been a Death Eater. _Does that mean that Voldemort himself gave Malfoy the diary, and he just passed it on to Ginny?_ That seemed quite odd to Harry. If it had been intended as some sort of trap, why would Voldemort have put his name on it? And if it was not intended as a trap, how had it possessed Ginny like that?

Too many questions, with not a single answer in sight. Fortunately, with the black book safely locked away in Timeland, there shouldn't be any more attacks. The problem was solved, as far as Harry was concerned. Now, he had other matters to focus on.

As he sped through the sky toward Hogsmeade, his mind began to wander, wondering what Peter would have to say at their meeting. His older friend had seemed quite confident that he had found evidence that Lockhart was a fraud. Harry wasn't surprised by this accusation but was curious how Peter intended to prove it.

A few minutes later, he touched down on a small hill with an old stump a little outside of town, just like Peter had described. He checked his watch, not surprised to see that he was still a bit early. He pulled the shrunken trunk out of his pocket and resized it, not wanting to spend any more time in the November night than absolutely necessary. Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long. About two minutes after he arrived, Peter appeared a dozen yards away with a loud pop.

The two of them climbed quickly down into the trunk, grateful for the respite from the bitterly cold winds.

"So, you lost all the bones in your arm?" Peter asked, his voice a mix of confusion and curiosity.

"Just one more piece of evidence on the 'Lockhart's a fraud' list," Harry said bitterly, before explaining the whole situation to his friend.

"Definitely incompetent," the older man responded when Harry finished. "If he's willing to cast spells at the students without really knowing what he's doing, he needs to be removed from the castle. If he had hit your ribs or your spine, that could have killed you."

Harry blanched at this thought. He'd been so focused on how painful it had been re-growing the bones to think about a possibility like that. "So, you have proof he's a fraud, then?"

Peter nodded. "I've read all the books a few times, looking for any errors there. For the most part, they're both accurate and realistic. There are a few suspicious parts, where Lockhart seems to know crucial information without any source, or uses a spell that I doubt exists. The most noticeable on that part was the _Homorphus _charm in _Wanderings with Werewolves_. To my knowledge, there is no spell that can transform a werewolf back into a human."

"So, doesn't that right there mean he's a fraud?" Harry interjected.

"Not necessarily," Peter cautioned with a shake of his head. "It wouldn't be too unrealistic for a novelized form of his adventures intended for mass publication to contain some simplifications to make for an easier, more consistent…" he trailed off, trying to think of the right word, "flow… of the story. A great deal of investigative work involves false clues and dead ends. Nobody wants to read about weeks and months of chasing down hints that ended up leading nowhere. And it's also possible that some of the less accurate parts are covering up actions that could be illegal or, at least, of questionable morality. Reading that the hero used a previously unknown charm to cure a werewolf is a lot more palatable for general audiences than finding out that the hero just killed the werewolf, which, from what I can tell, is what actually happened in _Wanderings_."

"I suppose that makes sense," Harry acknowledged.

"As I told you, I began a more thorough investigation by looking more closely at the book _Break with a Banshee_, which takes place near Bandon, Ireland." Harry nodded, and Peter continued. "From what I can tell, the book accurately describes how the Banshee was defeated. And when I interviewed a few of the major players in those events, they all agreed with Lockhart's account. However, when I questioned several people only peripherally involved, they told a very different story."

Harry sat up a little straighter, his attention now fully focused on his friend.

"Those people reported that they had seen an older witch named Aoife Byrne engaged in the very activities that Lockhart claims he used to defeat the Banshee. Not surprisingly, Ms. Byrne herself has no memory of those events. Instead, she thinks that she just answered a few questions for Lockhart during his investigation."

"He memory charmed her?" Harry asked incredulously.

Peter nodded solemnly. "I think so. And not just her. Everyone who would have known she was the real hero, not him. But, of course, there were a few people that he missed. For example, a large part of one of the later chapters is all about the hunt for the Banshee's lair. Lockhart claims he spent over a week wandering around in the caves near the town. I found two boys about your age who reported seeing Ms. Byrne exploring that area at about that time. Both boys are non-magical, so they wouldn't have known about what was really going on, and thus, escaped Lockhart's attention. Ms. Byrne, of course, has no memory of ever going near those caves. I found more than a dozen people who can recall similar encounters that Ms. Byrne does not remember. Also consider that, from my impression after speaking with her, Ms. Byrne is not the type of person to stand by and do nothing while innocent children are going missing, yet, from what she recalls, 'nothing' is exactly what she did. No, I'm convinced that she was the true vanquisher of the Bandon Banshee, and Lockhart simply swooped in later and took the credit."

"So, at least in this one instance, we can show quite conclusively that Lockhart lied about events and stole credit from someone else," Harry summarized after his friend had finally finished.

"Exactly," the blond man confirmed with a grim smile. "And if he did it once, it's very likely that he did it other times as well."

"So how do we expose him as a fraud?" Harry inquired.

Here, Peter seemed a little less sure of himself. "That's where things get tricky. Magical society as a whole is very gullible." He chuckled mirthlessly. "In fact, Lockhart's books being such best sellers should probably have been the first clue that they were lies. That's a pretty common thing in our world."

"This sort of thing has happened before?" Harry asked, confused.

"Have you ever heard of Ola'kun?" When Harry shook his head in response, Peter continued, "Legend has it that there is a massive underground city somewhere in England, probably near London. The stories have evolved over the years, of course, but most agree that it was originally built by the dwarves, but was conquered by the goblins long, long ago. When I was about your age, the bestselling book was _Under Street and Stone_, which purported to be the memoirs of an adventurer who found a secret passage into Ola'kun. As I recall, it originally sold only a handful of copies. Until, that is, the author vanished under mysterious circumstances, with many people blaming the goblins. After that, for more than a decade, it was one of the most well-known books, not just in Britain, but throughout the rest of Europe as well. Eventually, a reporter looking for more information tracked down the author's cousin, who had inherited everything when the author went missing."

"Let me guess, the 'cousin' was actually the author himself, who faked his death to generate interest in the book," Harry said dryly.

"Got it in one," Peter replied with a smile. "Congratulations, you're less gullible than ninety nine percent of magical Britain." He scoffed quietly. "That's happened more times than I can count. For centuries, there was a book called _The Merlinian Discourses_, supposedly an account of many things Merlin taught about Atlantis, Avalon, the history of magical people, and other things like that. It wasn't until the late 1700's that it was finally proven to be fraudulent. I think that magicals are just more trusting because they see impossible things happen every day. I can turn a stone into a giraffe with a wave of my wand. After that, how can anyone say what's real and what isn't?"

Harry thought about this for a moment. It certainly made sense. He smiled briefly, remembering Hermione's frequent rants about how wizards seem to lack common sense.

"But, the gullibility of magical society aside, we still have the issue of proving that Lockhart is a fraud," Peter said, getting the conversation back on track. "To be honest, I think that the best chance we have is publicly questioning him using a truth serum. If we can get him into a popular bar like the Three Broomsticks, and ask him some questions, we should be able to generate enough of an uproar that people will demand to know more." He paused for a moment, a small grimace passing over his face. "While I don't want to be insensitive, what he did to you may make things easier for us. When people find out that he cast a potentially lethal spell at the Boy-Who-Lived, they won't let that go so easily."

"Well, at least my fame is good for something," Harry said, hoping it didn't sound quite as bitter out loud as it did in his head.

Peter just smiled sympathetically. After so much time together, he had come to understand how much Harry disliked the attention he received for something he didn't even remember. "I think our best bet would be to try something over the holidays. I could contact Lockhart, claiming to be a fan with a story to tell, or wanting to hire him for some sort of publicity stunt. If he's as narcissistic as you say, I can't imagine that he'd pass up an opportunity for more fame and money."

"Yeah, that sounds just like him," Harry responded. "So, is there anything I should do in the meantime? I don't really like the idea of just waiting for a month and half."

Peter frowned in thought. "You might as well start laying the foundation work. Make sure to bring up how he vanished the bones in your arm, and how dangerous that would have been if it had hit your torso or head. If you can get the students writing home about how Harry Potter thinks Lockhart is a fake, it will make a bigger impact when the truth comes out."

"I can certainly do that," Harry replied with a slightly malicious smile.

* * *

The next day after class, Harry entered the office of his head of house.

"Professor McGonagall," he began, his voice cold and formal. "I would like to lodge a complaint against a member of the faculty at Hogwarts, specifically one Gilderoy Lockhart, for use of inappropriate spells, causing me severe harm. Given that you, yourself, were witness to the event in question, along with a majority of the students here, I'm sure that you can agree that there is ample cause for disciplinary action."

"Have a seat, Mister Potter," the stern Scot said, motioning to the wooden chair. "I've been wanting to speak with you for a while now, and this seems like a good time."

"Is this, perhaps, in response to my earlier complaints against Severus Snape?"

"That would be Professor Snape," the teacher said with a frown. "One must respect the office, even if they do not respect the man."

"If he is to be called a professor, then he should act like one," Harry retorted quickly. "For someone to abuse their position as a member of the faculty in order to punish a student who has done nothing wrong is unacceptable, and certainly inappropriate behavior for a teacher."

"A not-so-subtle reference to your situation last year, Potter?" McGonagall inquired disapprovingly.

"If you are lecturing me about the importance of using titles, then shouldn't you be referring to me as Mister Potter?" Harry asked somewhat impudently. "And, yes, there certainly is some similarity between the two events."

McGonagall took a moment to gather herself before responding. "Mister Potter, I understand that you may not be aware of this, but I was very close with your parents. I strive, of course, to be there for all of my Gryffindors," she frowned as Harry scoffed quietly, but pressed on, "but, of course, I have a closer relationship with some than with others."

Harry said nothing, simply gazing impassively at the teacher, waiting for her to continue.

"I will admit, in hindsight, that my decision on that particular day may not have been ideal." She looked somewhat uncomfortable at this admission, but pressed on. "That being said, a Gryffindor must always be held to the highest standard. Honor and Chivalry are two of the most important attributes of our house. I was concerned that you would begin to act like a bully, attacking Slytherin students, as your father, I must unfortunately admit, would on occasion. I felt that it was necessary to curb this behavior."

Harry thought about what she had said for a moment. "I didn't realize that you and Snape had so much in common," he finally replied. "After all, you're both punishing me for the actions of a dead man that I never knew." McGonagall opened her mouth to respond, but he continued without waiting. "And as for your idea that Gryffindors must be held to the highest standard? That's absurd. Gryffindors must be held to the exact same standard as everyone else. All students of Hogwarts should follow the rules, and if they fail to do so, they should be punished equally. You don't let the Slytherins get away with bad behavior simply because they're not Gryffindors. That's ridiculous, especially for the Deputy Headmistress."

He took a quick breath, but once more, continued speaking without giving her the chance to reply. "Regardless, that's not why I'm here. I have brought a formal complaint against a faculty member to my head of house. May I ask what you intend to do about it?"

McGonagall seemed a little off-balance at the sudden switch in topics, but made no effort to revisit their earlier subject. "I will discuss the matter with Professor Lockhart and Professor Dumbledore," she assured him.

"Given that there is ample evidence, both that he was the one who cast the spell, and that I was injured, I feel that we are well past the point of mere discussion. As such, I am not satisfied with the results of this meeting, so I will proceed with written notifications as specified in the charter. Good day, Professor."

He stood and walked to the door, but paused briefly before exiting. "You say that you were very close to my parents. What do you think they would have said about how I was treated last year?" he asked harshly, but didn't wait for an answer.

* * *

Not surprisingly, nothing came of the formal complaints Harry sent out. Still, he was careful to record everything, even using copy paper from Scrivenshaft's to make duplicates of each letter he sent. It was somewhat surprising just how thick his notebook was getting, but he figured that was probably the point. Sometime in the future, he could show people all of the injustices he'd been subjected to, and the more evidence he had, the more people would believe him.

Still, that left Harry quite unsatisfied with the Lockhart situation. He knew that Peter was still optimistic regarding their plan to prove Lockhart's perfidy over the holidays, but Harry was hoping for a slightly more personal form of revenge.

_Snape's probably going to accuse me of being an attention-seeking brat for this_ _but it's worth it,_ Harry thought grimly as he entered the Great Hall for dinner.

"If I could have everyone's attention please," Harry called out, standing up on the bench to ensure the other students could see him. The teachers looked particularly startled, but he hurried on before anyone could say anything.

"As most of you saw, at the Gryffindor-Slytherin match, my arm was broken by a bludger. According to Madam Pomfrey, that would have been a simple injury to fix. However, while I was still lying on the ground, Gilderoy Lockhart took it upon himself to cast a spell at me, vanishing the bones in my arm. While I have since recovered, the fact remains that if that spell had hit somewhere else, it could have vanished my ribs, my spine, or even my skull, likely resulting in my death. I have contacted the Headmaster and the Board of Governors, but none of them have acted. So, I'm going to have to take matters into my own hands." He turned his attention to the foppish professor, who had an expression on his face somewhere between a grimace and a sympathetic smile. "Gilderoy Lockhart. You're a fraud, and I challenge you to a duel."

* * *

"What were you thinking?" Hermione berated him afterward in the Gryffindor common room.

"I was thinking that he needs to be punished for harming a student, and if nobody else is going to do it, then I will," Harry retorted just as emphatically.

"He made a mistake!" she shrieked.

"Yes, one that could have killed me," Harry replied angrily. "Regardless of your feelings for him, you have to admit that he should not have cast a spell on a student, especially one that he was evidently not qualified to cast."

"There were other ways you could have dealt with it," she responded firmly.

"Yes, there were," came the stern voice from the portrait entrance. Both students turned to see McGonagall looking disapprovingly at Harry. "Mister Potter, as you are aware, there are procedures in place to deal with any concerns the students may have regarding the Hogwarts faculty. Standing up in the Great Hall and airing your grievances is not acceptable. I have discussed the matter with Professor Lockhart, and he agreed that five nights of detention assisting with his fanmail will be suitable punishment."

Somehow, Harry managed to keep the mischievous grin off his face until after the unyielding transfiguration teacher had left. _Oh, this is just perfect!_

* * *

Last time Harry was forced to assist the professor, the conceited man had been all smiles and jokes. This time, Lockhart was nowhere near as cheerful when Harry entered his office, instead pointing to a stack of envelopes waiting to be sealed and addressed. Harry feigned reluctance, but still, made his way without complaint to the desk and chair. Perhaps in an attempt to make it more of a punishment, Lockhart had arranged things so that he would be facing a corner. For Harry, however, this was a very convenient position. He sat down, carefully ensuring that Lockhart didn't notice as he slipped a stack of papers out of his pocket and set them next to the envelopes.

He paused for a moment to look at the small slips of paper he had copied over and over, grinning as he read the message he had written.

_Dear Sir or Madam,_

_My name is Harry Potter, and I feel that I must inform you of some events that took place a short time ago at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry regarding Gilderoy Lockhart, which you may be unaware of. I am the Seeker on the Gryffindor house quidditch team, and during the last game my arm was broken. Rather than wait for competent medical help, Lockhart cast a dangerous spell at me, which, rather than healing me, instead removed all the bones from my right arm. I am reliably informed that if his aim had been a little off, he could have vanished my ribs, spine or skull, leading to a more grievous injury, possibly even death. I feel, therefore, that it is my duty to warn you that, despite what you may have heard or read, Lockhart is not the hero he tries to portray._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry James Potter_

With a smile, Harry slipped a copy of the note into the first envelope, sealed it, and then took great satisfaction in carefully addressing it to the first of Lockhart's adoring fans.

* * *

Not surprisingly, Lockhart himself was completely unaware of Harry's actions until a few fans wrote back, asking about the note in question. Lockhart, of course, was not pleased with Harry's attempts to expose the truth, which is how the boy found himself once more in Professor McGonagall's office.

"Completely undermined me in front of some of my most dedicated and devoted fans… a gross misrepresentation of unfortunate events taken completely out of context… unacceptable and inaccurate assault on my impeccable character and reputation…"

Harry just smiled as the narcissistic fool's tirade washed over him. To his surprise, McGonagall seemed to be just as skeptical of the fraud.

"Everyone should have the chance to tell their side of the story, Professor," he replied with an unrepentant grin. "And it was just a small teaser to let your fans in on the big secret first. A more thorough account will be coming out soon."

"A more thorough account, Mister Potter?" The transfiguration teacher asked, her face a mix of confusion and concern.

"Yes, I spoke yesterday with Luna Lovegood, whose father runs _The Quibbler_. It may not be the most highly regarded newspaper out there, but it should at least get people asking questions, which the students at Hogwarts can confirm," he responded with forced indifference.

Lockhart blanched, his award-winning smile nowhere in sight as he considered the possibility. "You wanted a duel. Fine, we can duel," he finally said, his voice shaking a little. "But if I win, you stop these… ridiculous rumors."

"Ridiculous rumors?" Harry replied mockingly. "And I think we're a bit past the point of settling things with a duel. You had the chance, you didn't take it."

"If you win, I'll give you half of the profits from my books for the next year," the teacher continued frantically.

"If I win, you probably won't be getting any profits from your books, because everyone will know you're a fraud. So you'll give me half of the profits from the last _three_ years," Harry quickly countered.

McGonagall looked like she wanted to object, but Lockhart was too fast. "Fine, it's a deal. We'll duel, and when I win, you stop telling lies," he agreed, a little bit of his normal personality coming to the fore as he saw a chance to turn this debacle around.

"You certainly have an advantage," Harry replied with a grin. "I've only ever killed a troll, which pales in comparison to the horrid monsters you've faced over the years." He was pleased to see the blood drain from the professor's face. "The duel will be next Friday in the Great Hall after dinner, so any students who wish to watch can attend," Harry continued. He was unsurprised to see a moment of panic in the teacher's eyes at this declaration. "After all, they all heard my accusations. Surely you would want them there to see that I was wrong."

Lockhart still looked like he was struggling not to wet his pants, but nodded anyway.

"Excellent! I look forward to it," Harry said as he strode out of the office.

* * *

Harry kept a close watch on Lockhart as the duel grew near. As he had expected, Lockhart seemed on the verge of panic every time he saw the dark-haired Gryffindor. Still, there was no reason to get overconfident. To ensure that he was ready, Harry had begun spending extra time in the vault, usually only a few days each night, practicing the spells that he would use. A cautious inquiry with the house elves in the kitchens had resulted in Harry being given all the delicious food he could carry, so his nights were both enjoyable and productive. Lots of practice, and an incompetent opponent, meant that he was feeling confident things would go his way. Judging by Lockhart's expressions, the teacher seemed to share that opinion.

Harry was surprised, then, when Lockhart confronted him in the halls on Wednesday, suggesting that Harry practice up because he didn't want the boy to be too embarrassed when he lost.

"Did anyone else think that was a suspiciously large change in behavior?" Harry asked his friends as they watched the teacher walk away.

Hermione, of course, didn't respond, but Neville did. "You're right. Yesterday, he couldn't even come within ten feet of you without looking like he was about to lose his lunch, and now, it's like he's on top of the world."

Harry frowned. "He's planning something."

Neville shot his friend a concerned look. "What do you think it is?"

Harry thought for a moment, but nothing came to mind. "I guess we'll just have to find out," he replied uncertainly.

* * *

Despite what he implied to Neville, Harry had no intention of taking the 'wait and see' approach. Rather, he had a different idea in mind for 'finding out'.

He ghosted through the darkened halls, stealthily moving toward the second floor, where Lockhart's quarters were located.

"_Alohomora_," he whispered, pointing his wand at the door. A soft click was barely audible as the lock disengaged. Glancing around to ensure that nobody was watching, he pushed the door open slowly, then crept inside and shut the door behind him.

He walked slowly, being as quiet as possible, but it was probably unnecessary, as the professor's loud snores filled the room. Still, Harry didn't want to take any unnecessary chances.

Harry stunned the professor, then dragged the man out of the bed and with a great deal of effort (while wishing that the Leviosa charm could be used on people) managed to get him into a chair. An _incarcerous_ ensured that the conceited teacher would not be able to move.

Harry pulled the vial of veritaserum out of his kit. Unlike most of the other potions, rather than using the full vial, only a few drops were needed. Fortunately, the vial had an eyedropper, so Harry quickly administered the necessary dose before reviving Lockhart.

Given that the potion would only last for an hour, Harry didn't want to waste any time, so he jumped right in on the questions he really wanted answers for.

"What is your plan for the duel with Harry Potter on Friday?" he asked softly.

"Severus has offered to take my place using Polyjuice Potion," came the reply.

Harry felt a wave of panic at the idea of fighting the probably former Death Eater (even in his mind, he wasn't sure if he thought the 'probably' applied to the Death Eater part or the former part) but pushed it aside. Thanks to the vault, he had all the time he needed to come up with a plan.

"Did you really accomplish any of the things you wrote about in your books?" Harry asked, though he was quite confident he knew the answer.

"I was really awarded _Witch Weekley's_ Most-Charming-Smile Award five times. I was made an honorary member of the Dark Force…" Harry ignored the rest as he mentally berated himself for asking such a stupid question.

"Were you the one that defeated the Bandon Banshee?" he asked when the teacher had finally finished his egocentric litany.

"No."

"Were you the one that defeated the Wagga Wagga Werewolf?"

"No."

"Are any of the heroic actions portrayed in your books accurate?"

"My recounting of the actions themselves are mostly accurate, but I wasn't the one who did them."

"Did you memory charm others and take credit for their work?"

"Yes."

Harry took a step back. He had known, or at least, suspected the truth, but it was still a bit overwhelming to get real confirmation. He pushed aside those thoughts to continue the interrogation.

"Are you qualified to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts?"

"No," came the simple reply.

"Did you have any reasons to come teach that you would not want your fans to know about?"

"Yes."

"What are those reasons?"

"I was allowed to set the list of books that the students had to purchase, enabling me to force them to buy copies of my books. I also hoped to use my position to have the opportunity to have sex with some of the female students."

"And have you had sex with any of the students?" Harry asked, disgusted.

"Not yet," Lockhart responded.

"What crimes have you committed besides illegally erasing people's memories?"

"I have trespassed on multiple occasions. I have stolen money or possessions from people whose memory I removed. I have used compulsion charms to force muggle women to have sex with me. I have destroyed government records as part of my efforts to steal credit for other's actions. I have cast potentially dangerous spells on others. I faked several attacks causing property damage and harm to a number of individuals as part of my attempt to claim credit for vanquishing the ghouls in Hungary. I helped to erase evidence of several crimes in order…" Harry ignored the teacher's recounting of his sins. He didn't want to listen anymore. Lockhart needed to be removed as soon as possible.

Harry stunned the man again, then opened his mouth and dumped in a vial of forgetfulness potion. Unlike the kind he took after his fight with Quirrel at the end of first year, this potion was permanent. Harry took a moment to savor the poetic justice. Unfortunately, he would only be erasing the last hour. Still, it was enough to ensure that the despicable man had no idea Harry had discovered his crimes.

After getting the older man back into his bed, Harry carefully crept back to Gryffindor Tower. Peter would now know exactly what to ask Lockhart over the holidays. Unfortunately, Harry now had a new problem – how to deal with Snape at the duel, without anyone finding out that he had dosed a teacher with a restricted substance.

* * *

The Great Hall was packed, with almost all of the students waiting anxiously for the duel. While a few seemed to support Harry, he was disappointed to note that the vast majority seemed to be gleefully awaiting his humiliation. Still, as he checked his book bag to ensure he had the necessary parchment, he wasn't too concerned.

Flitwick, who would be officiating the duel, was standing by a golden stage along one wall. The long dining tables had been removed, and students crowded close to get a good view of the action. Harry made his way over to the stage, ignoring the hisses from the students of what was going to happen to him. He carefully set his bag down near one side, then approached the short professor.

"Lockhart isn't here yet, I imagine?" he inquired.

"Not yet, Mister Potter. I assume that you are ready for this?" Flitwick asked, looking somewhat concerned for the student.

"I've spent plenty of time practicing up. I'm sure it will go how I want," Harry replied with as much confidence as he could muster.

A bit of a hush fell over the crowd as one of the side doors opened, and Lockhart entered, looking resplendent in his immaculate robes. Or at least, a man who looked like Lockhart entered.

Harry watched as the professor strode over to the stage, looking imperiously intimidating. Just as he had planned and practiced, Harry deliberately frowned, an expression of confusion and doubt on his face as he studied his opponent carefully.

"Well, you wanted this duel. Are you going to fight or are you so scared that you're just going to stand there, Potter?" his adversary asked snidely.

Harry remained calm, continuing to study the man, then turned to look at Flitwick. "Professor, before we begin, can I ask Professor Lockhart a question?"

"Just get up here and we can get this over with," the man on the stage demanded.

"I'm afraid it will have to wait, Mister Potter," Flitwick replied uncertainly.

"With respect, Professor, I think we need to deal with this now. It won't take long." Harry grabbed his bag, and pulled out his binder where he kept old assignments and tests. Ignoring the whispered insults of the students around him, he flipped through quickly before finding what he was looking for.

Harry turned his attention back to the enemy on the stage. "Professor, what is your secret ambition?"

"What?" the man said in confusion.

"Your secret ambition. You asked us about it in a test at the beginning of the year. It must be important, so surely you can tell us all what it is." Harry glanced over at Flitwick, who was now frowning. "Or how about your favorite color? Can you tell us that?"

"What is the point of this?" 'Lockhart' demanded.

"The point is, that I don't think you're really Lockhart. It was obvious from the moment you first came in. You don't walk like him. You don't talk like him. For example, Lockhart always calls me 'Harry'. Usually says my name two or three times. 'Harry, Harry, Harry. When I heard, oh! I should have known…'" Harry said in a surprisingly accurate imitation of the blonde man. "You, on the other hand, called me Potter. And judging by the anger in your eyes, I think that you're actually Snape using Polyjuice Potion."

Flitwick, who had been watching Harry in confusion, now spun to glare at the other man, drawing his wand quickly. "I did wonder why Gilderoy was suddenly so confident when he had been extremely agitated at the idea of facing Mister Potter just a few days ago," he said quietly, before raising his voice. "Well, Gilderoy or Severus, whichever you may be. Care to prove your identity? Mister Potter's idea certainly has merit. Can you answer the questions on the test?"

Harry had heard the expression 'if looks could kill' before, but he'd never imagined it could be so accurate. He forced himself to meet the professor's infuriated gaze calmly, not showing any weakness.

"Professor Lockhart was feeling unwell, and asked me to take his place in this foolish waste of time," Snape finally replied with a snarl.

"Then _Professor Lockhart_ should have approached myself and Mister Potter about rescheduling," Flitwick replied, just as angrily. "Although I must admit my surprise at this sudden turn of events, given that I saw him in the teacher's lounge just a few hours ago looking perfectly well. Regardless, the duel will be held here tonight. Go tell Gilderoy that if he is not here in ten minutes, he will forfeit."

It seemed to Harry that Snape was about to curse him anyway, but finally, the sour man turned and strode out of the hall.

"A most impressive demonstration of observation, Mister Potter," Flitwick said after the man had left.

"Well, as you said, Lockhart was behaving strangely, and Snape seemed more smug than usual. At first, I thought it might just be that Snape had given Lockhart some tips, but that wouldn't explain such a sudden change. So, I came prepared."

"Yes, you certainly did," the short professor agreed.

Harry could hear the students, still whispering, but now it seemed that they were beginning to support him instead. Except for the Slytherins, of course, who were furious that their head of house had been embarrassed.

With less than a minute to spare, Lockhart came dashing into the Great Hall, looking far more flustered than Harry had ever seen. "I'm here," the man cried.

"So glad you were able to join us despite your unfortunate illness," Flitwick said sarcastically. "Both of you, up on the stage."

Lockhart still looked like he wanted to object, but took his place quietly. Harry confidently stood at his end, a triumphant smirk spreading across his face as he watched his opponent panic.

"As previously agreed, spells will be limited to dueling class B. You will not cast before I say begin. Dueler one, are you ready?" Flitwick asked, pointing to Harry.

"Ready," the boy called back boldly.

"Dueler two, are you ready?"

"Ready," Lockhart replied in a tremulous voice.

"Take your stances. Three, two, one, begin!" Flitwick cried.

Even though Harry suspected that Lockhart would be unable to successfully cast any spell, he knew that allowing his opponent to cast at all was still a risk. After all, one didn't need the spell to be correct to cause harm, as he had seen when his arm bones were vanished. So, he didn't waste any time at all.

"_Flippendo_," he shouted, giving his wand the necessary quarter twirl and jab. That one spell would probably have been enough, but he wasn't taking any chances. The knockback jinx was followed quickly by a stunner, and then a disarming spell.

Not surprisingly, the extra spells weren't needed. The jinx hit the professor squarely in the chest as the man was frantically waving his wand in some complicated fashion, sending him tumbling off the stage, head over heels.

"Winner, Mister Potter," Professor Flitwick called out, to the cheers of many of the students.

* * *

Harry knocked firmly on the door.

"Come in," came the reply.

Harry entered to see McGonagall seated behind her desk.

"Hello, Professor. I am here to lodge a formal complaint with my head of house against Severus Snape for his attempt to unlawfully interfere in a private matter between myself and Gilderoy Lockhart."

The transfiguration teacher didn't look surprised, instead a look of weary resignation crossed her face.

"Given your past behavior, we both know you're not going to do anything about it. And since I am unsatisfied with that," he reached into his bag and pulled out a piece of parchment with writing on it, "this is the written notice of my concerns that I am delivering to the Deputy Headmistress. I will be sending copies to the Headmaster and the Board of Governors separately."

He placed the notice on the desk, then turned and walked over to the door. "Now it's official," he reminded her. "No excuses."


	11. Chapter 10: A New Teacher

Chapter 10: A New Teacher

"Hello, Harry Potter," said a cheerful voice.

Harry turned to see a thin, blond girl with unusual earrings smiling pleasantly at him. "Why, hello there, Luna Lovegood. How are you doing today?" he asked politely.

"I am doing very well, thank you very much," she said as she skipped over toward him, then with a flourish, pulled a magazine out and handed it to him. "I asked Dad to send a copy to give to you," she explained.

Harry took the offered magazine, looking at the cover. Bright red letters greeted him, their provocative message making him grin a little.

HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT

ABOUT LOCKHART THE LIAR

HERO'S ADVENTURES ALL STOLEN

"This looks great," he congratulated the girl. "I'm surprised, I thought you said you probably wouldn't be able to get it in until the January edition."

Luna grimaced. "Yes, we were supposed to get an exclusive report from an inside source on a secret organization selling potions made from a giant alien organism in order to give powers to non-magicals, but the article wasn't of sufficient quality for publication. _The Quibbler_ does have standards, after all," she finished seriously.

Harry wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. From what he had heard, it sounded like _The Quibbler's_ standards were hovering somewhere between nonexistent and 'the crazier the better', but he certainly didn't want to say that. "Well, I'm very grateful that you were able to publish my story so quickly. Thanks for your hard work."

"You're welcome, Harry Potter. It was our pleasure. Dad thinks that this may be one of the better selling editions. If it sells well enough, we might even make enough to go on an expedition to Sweden this summer to catch a Crumple-Horned Snorcack!" the girl replied, excitement evident on her face as she turned and skipped away.

Harry just shook his head. Talking with Luna was always a unique experience.

* * *

After learning what Harry had discovered during his interrogation of Lockhart, Peter was even more determined than ever to get the vile man out of Hogwarts. So Harry was not surprised in the least when he saw a message from his friend reporting that things were all set to expose the fraud.

_L agreed to meet. I told him I have damaging info_

_about you. He can't wait. Doesn't suspect a thing._

Harry smirked. In less than a week, Lockhart would finally be getting his comeuppance. _About time,_ he thought. He just wished that he could be there in person to see it, but Peter had pointed out that it would be wise to have an alibi just in case things went wrong or there was some sort of blowback. After all, the man had a legion of dedicated fans who would be very displeased at their hero being publicly revealed as a fake.

* * *

The Hogwarts Express left the next day. It was strange to once more spend time in the almost deserted castle. The hallways were all but empty. In Gryffindor, only Harry and the Weasleys had chosen to stay. Hermione had been considering it for a short while, but in the end decided that she should spend some time with her parents. For some reason, Malfoy was staying over the holidays as well, along with Crabbe and Goyle. Harry thought that was odd, given that last year, Malfoy had been teasing him about having to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays. But avoiding those three wasn't difficult, so Harry couldn't complain too much.

With so much empty space, it was easy to slip away from the Weasleys whenever he wanted. The trouble was that he didn't really have anything else to do to fill up the time! Studying got boring after a while, and with all the snow, they couldn't play quidditch (even if there had been enough people, which there weren't), and chess and exploding snap got pretty dull after a while. Harry was pleased to see that Ginny was no longer so pale and withdrawn. She seemed to have regained some of her old personality, proving to be a tough opponent for her brothers during games of exploding snap (though she still blushed and squeaked whenever Harry drew near).

Harry spent quite a bit of time reading both his fantasy books and his school books. He had already finished the material for second year, but the library had many books for third year as well, so he decided to get an early start on it. He also began learning occlumency, a magical method of protecting the mind. His parents had acquired a small crystal that helped a person develop mental shields using increasingly powerful mental attacks. Harry wasn't sure how much he was actually learning, but if there was even a chance to help keep his mind safe, it was certainly worth it.

At last the day arrived when Lockhart would be publicly revealed as a charlatan. Harry could hardly wait. It was obvious that the man was completely fooled. He had taken to smirking at Harry whenever they saw each other (which fortunately wasn't often), clearly having bought into Peter's lies that he had some sort of embarrassing information about Harry.

Harry had spent a few hours in Hogsmeade, shopping for presents for his friends. This year's gifts weren't quite as extravagant as last year's, and he got a lot more generic things like bags of candy, but as he began the trip back to the castle, he still felt his presents would be appreciated.

After supper, Lockhart made the proud announcement that he was stepping out to go down to the Three Broomsticks, flashing an evil grin Harry's way. Harry struggled to keep his composure, knowing that Lockhart wouldn't be quite so happy when he returned.

Surprisingly, Lockhart didn't come back that night. It was when he checked for a message from Peter that Harry understood why.

_Went better than expected. Auror named _

_Proudfoot was at the bar, arrested L._

Harry let out a triumphant laugh. "YEESSS," he cried victoriously, drawing strange looks from Ron, who had just entered.

"What's got you so excited?" the redhead asked.

"Just got some good news. You'll probably hear about it tomorrow," Harry replied.

Ron shrugged, but continued getting ready for bed.

* * *

As Harry had expected, the news of Lockhart's fall from grace was on the front page of the _Daily Prophet_. The Three Broomsticks was easily the most popular tavern in Hogsmeade, and everyone there had heard the famous author's confession. Harry kept an eye on the teachers as he read the article and was pleased to note the visible expressions of shock and horror when the professors read about their colleague's crimes.

Dumbledore, in particular, looked very put out. _Serves him right for hiring such a useless wanker, and for being one himself,_ Harry thought angrily. He was still upset about everything over the summer, even though he still wasn't sure what all the apprenticeship entailed.

After breakfast, Harry ran up to his room and wrote a letter to the _Prophet_ about Lockhart, including the miscast spell, his formal complaints, and the duel which Lockhart had tried to avoid. Getting the opportunity to make Snape look bad was just icing on the cake. And, of course, when people found out that Harry had tried to report it according to Hogwarts school policy, but was ignored, that would put people like Dumbledore in a lot of hot water. This was, with out a doubt, one of the best Christmases he'd ever had, and the actual holiday wasn't even until the next day!

* * *

The next Monday morning, Harry snuck out of the dorms shortly after nine. Carefully avoiding the other inhabitants of the castle, he made his way down to the grounds, and began the long trek to Hogsmeade. A quick trip by floo had him sprawled out on the floor of the Leaky Cauldron. With as much dignity as he could muster, he picked himself up and brushed off the dust, then bought a butterbeer from old Tom. Taking a seat at a table with a good view of the fireplace, he began to sip at his drink, waiting patiently. By his watch, he was about five minutes early.

Just a few minutes later, the fireplace glowed green, and Neville stepped out gracefully, looking nervous, but determined. Harry quickly approached his friend.

"Hey, Neville!" he called cheerfully. "Happy Christmas!"

"Happy Christmas," the blond boy responded. "Thanks for this. I'm really looking forward to it," he confessed.

"No problem," Harry replied casually. "I'm sure you'll do great once you get a wand that matches you."

The two boys entered Diagon Alley, and began to walk toward Ollivander's. Harry had sent Hedwig with a letter last week to confirm that the store would be open today, which was fortunate, since many of the shops in the alley appeared to be closed for the holidays.

"Any trouble getting away without telling your Gran?" Harry asked, more to make conversation than out of any real concern.

"No, not really," the other boy replied. "She was visiting some friends about something. As long as I'm back by lunch, I doubt she'll even notice I'm gone. That shouldn't be a problem, right? How long does it take to get a wand?"

Harry frowned. "It took me quite a while, but from what Ollivander said, it sounds like that was pretty unusual. You should be fine," he finished as they entered the store.

As Harry had expected, finding Neville's wand went much faster than his own experience. Less than fifteen minutes after they entered, the two boys were leaving once more, with Neville hardly able to take his eyes off his new cherry and unicorn hair wand.

"Well, I need to go to Gringotts," Harry said as they stepped back out into the cold. "Happy Christmas, and congratulations on the new wand! I'm sure it'll be great for you."

"Thanks so much, Harry," the blond boy said fervently, then looked a little awkward. "Can you take it back to Hogwarts for me?" he asked. "I don't want my Gran to know I got a different wand."

Harry shrugged. "Not a problem," he replied.

The boys parted ways with a quick wave, and Harry began the journey to Gringotts. Not surprisingly, the bank was still open. He highly doubted that the surly goblins had any holidays at all.

It was when he presented his key to the teller that Harry got his first unpleasant taste of what the apprenticeship would mean.

"Per instruction from your overseer Albus Dumbledore, your withdrawals throughout the year are limited to a total of thirty galleons," the gruff goblin stated.

Though irritated, Harry knew that arguing here was pointless. "Does that mean that if I withdraw thirty galleons now, I could come back in January and withdraw another thirty?" he asked.

"Correct. Withdrawal totals reset at the end of each calendar year," came the reply.

Harry considered this for a moment. While inconvenient, it wouldn't cause any insurmountable obstacles for him. He had a five thousand galleon emergency fund in Timeland, after all. But it still irritated him that Dumbledore would be trying to control him, without even discussing it with Harry first.

"Alright, then I'll be withdrawing the full thirty galleons today," he told the goblin, who merely nodded and gestured over to another goblin standing along the wall, who ushered Harry into a waiting cart.

The trip didn't take long, and Harry was soon back in the alley. With the emergency fund, he could continue to pay Peter for several years, but he would much prefer to keep that stash for real emergencies. And if he hired more people, that money would run out fast.

_I guess it's time to go to plan B, _the boy thought grimly as he walked out of the Leaky Cauldron and summoned the Knight Bus.

One short ride later, he was standing outside of a familiar blue house.

* * *

"This place is amazing," Peter said, staring in wonder at the clocks showing time in the real world and the time in the vault.

Peter and Heather had been surprised to see Harry, but quickly welcomed him into their home. While the vanishing cabinet that Harry had appropriated from Hogwarts didn't really match any of their other furniture, they found a place for it in the modest home office, next to a small table holding the computer. So now, Harry was showing off the wonders of the time compression vault.

"It's very convenient when you want to get a lot done in a short amount of time," Harry agreed.

"Incredible," came the distracted reply. Peter shook his head, then focused again on Harry. "I knew your parents were creative, but this takes the cake. I never would have imagined someone could do something like this. And yet, it's so simple when you know the secret."

"Yeah, my mum was pretty talented."

"Your dad, too," Peter commented. "My guess is that he was the one who came up with the idea of this place. He was always the one with the big, impressive vision. Then your mum would come in afterward with the skills and detailed analysis necessary to figure out how to make his ideas a reality. It's part of what made them such a good team."

Harry frowned for a moment. McGonagall's claims that his dad had been a bully while at school had been weighing on him ever since their discussion. "What was my dad like at Hogwarts?" he finally asked.

Peter looked at him quizzically. "I didn't know him all that well, but I thought he was very talented, although he wasn't as serious as I would have expected from the Head Boy. Something tells me that's not what you're asking, though."

"McGonagall said he was a bully," Harry admitted with a sigh.

Peter shrugged. "I do know that some of the older students were surprised when he was made Head Boy. Some of his pranks had apparently crossed the line when he was younger, but I think he got a bit more mature as he got older. To be honest, though, I think it's tough to judge someone in a situation like we were all in back then."

"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked curiously.

"Have you ever heard of the book _Lord of the Flies_?" Peter asked in response. Harry was surprised by the apparent change of subject, but shook his head. "It's about a bunch of kids stuck on an island without any adult supervision, and, not surprisingly, they basically go crazy. They just don't have the understanding and maturity to properly govern themselves. And as disturbing as it sounds, that's what Hogwarts was like when we were in school. It was an absolute madhouse, with many of the students openly admitting that they intended to join the Death Eaters once they graduated, and some even getting some practice in while still in school. It wasn't all that unusual for students to be viciously attacked. It didn't happen every day, granted, or even every month, but it wasn't unheard of."

"And the teachers didn't do anything?" Harry asked, somewhat appalled. After the words came out of his mouth, of course, he realized what a foolish question it had been. Considering how much trouble he was having getting anyone to enforce the rules now, when things were relatively under control, it was easy to imagine how much worse things would be when the country was in the middle of a civil war.

"Not in the least. Dumbledore was always busy with things related to the war, and McGonagall was helping him. The head of Slytherin, Professor Slughorn, wasn't a blood bigot from what I could tell, but he never did anything to reign his students in. Rumor had it that, for some reason, he was terrified of You-Know-Who, and didn't want to do anything that might possibly draw his ire."

Peter shook his head, lost for a moment in memories. "Times like that, sometimes there aren't any good answers. I know that your dad was a firm opponent of the dark arts in general, and wasn't the type to look the other way when the junior Death Eaters did something, usually responding pretty harshly. But, as is always the problem with vigilante justice, that doesn't mean that he was always right. He probably went after some people who didn't really deserve it because of misunderstandings, or because they were collateral damage in a prank against a nearby target. I really don't know. But I do think that he was generally a good person, and I would tend to put any excesses down to the overall lawless nature of Hogwarts at the time, rather than as a mark against him as a person."

Harry thought about this for a moment, still not entirely satisfied, but willing to let it rest for now. "Thanks," he replied absentmindedly.

Peter smiled. "No problem. Is that all you wanted to talk about?"

"No," Harry responded, shaking his head. "Actually, I had something quite a bit more important to discuss. I found out that Dumbledore is using the apprenticeship to limit how much I can withdraw from my Gringotts vault. It's enough for pocket money, but not for what we need. I have a large emergency fund in my office here that can keep us going for years, but I think we should start looking for ways to get more money now. Which is what I wanted to talk about. How much did I tell you about my encounter with Quirrell and Voldemort last June?"

Peter frowned in thought. "You said that you stopped them, but were injured. I don't remember anything that would explain the relevance to your earlier statements."

"They were going after the Philosopher's Stone. I didn't tell anyone, but I somehow got the Stone out before the mirror was destroyed," Harry said, as he led his friend into the office, then opened the drawer and pulled out the large, red crystal.

"This is…" Peter's voice trailed off as he stared in amazement.

"This is what was in the mirror. I don't know for sure if it is the Philosopher's Stone," Harry said guardedly. "It could be a fake, intended to lure Voldemort to the school. But if it is the real Stone, and we can figure out how to use it, then we'll have all the money we need."

Peter nodded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "It might raise some eyebrows to have so much gold bullion, but there would be ways around that."

"I was thinking even if we couldn't sell it all in the magical world, we could sell it in the muggle world, then exchange the money for galleons," Harry suggested.

"Actually, that wouldn't work as well as you think," Peter replied with a frown. "There's strict limits on exchanging muggle money for magical. Otherwise, you've created a financial incentive to victimize muggles. Part of the reason that the Statute of Secrecy requires separate currency is to reduce that sort of theft. Any half-way competent magical would be able to steal money by the barrel without getting caught. To prevent that, the ministry has very stringent controls on exchanging magical and muggle money. It would actually be easier to sell the gold in other countries, then exchange their magical currency for ours."

"I hadn't thought about that. I just saw my friend Hermione's parents exchanging money over the summer," Harry said, surprised.

"She's muggleborn, right?" At Harry's nod, Peter continued. "Then it makes sense that there are provisions for her family to exchange a certain amount of money, but even still, there are limits. As far as the wizarding world is concerned, muggle money is essentially worthless, because they can just conjure it whenever they want. It's either counterfeiting or stealing, depending on how you look at it, but that doesn't stop most people. So, of course, the ministry doesn't want people getting galleons for something with no worth to them. That would be an absolute disaster for the economy."

"Good to know," Harry replied, still thinking about this new revelation.

"But, economic lessons aside, it doesn't really matter unless we can actually use the Philosopher's Stone to make some gold," Peter said, turning his attention back to the crystal on the desk.

"Think you can figure out how to use it?" Harry asked.

"To be honest, I'm not overly optimistic," Peter replied honestly. "But I'll see what I can do." He frowned in thought for a minute, studying Harry carefully. "How would you feel if I were to get some help?"

"Help from who? Can they be trusted?" Harry asked cautiously.

"There's a fellow I met in Ireland named Chad. He's actually an American, so we don't have to worry about him telling anyone over here. He studied technomancy, which is a non-traditional approach to enchanting that has been developed recently. After graduating from Ilvermorny a few years ago, he's spent his time traveling around the world seeing interesting sights. When he was in Ireland, he was researching something to do with some ancient mage's grave. Even before today, I'd actually been thinking about hiring him to do some work for us, for example, making a better way to communicate."

"That would be greatly appreciated," Harry agreed emphatically. Having to write everything, limited to 57 characters at a time got extremely tedious after a while.

"He was headed back to America, but said that he would likely be returning in a few months, and planned to live in England for a year or two while making occasional short trips out to the continent. I could see about getting in touch with him."

"And you think he could help figure out how to use the Philosopher's Stone?" Harry asked.

"I have no idea, but someone with experience in enchanting would have a much better chance than I would. An Alchemist would be best, of course. A Potions Master would be my next choice. But we don't have either of those, so we might as well see if an enchanter can do anything. I'll be the first to admit that my skills in those areas are extremely limited, or, in the case of alchemy, nonexistent."

Harry thought for a moment. It sounded like a good idea. "If someone knowledgeable about enchanting would be so useful, should we try to find someone from Britain to help us?"

Peter shook his head. "I doubt we'd be able to. Enchanting is very useful and very powerful, and therefore, is also very restricted. They don't teach it at Hogwarts, or any of the other schools. If you want to learn, you have to learn from a master, and they are careful who they teach. Most of the family-owned businesses that use enchanting only allow certain 'trustworthy' people to learn, and even still, often require employee oaths. It's part of how they maintain their monopolies."

Harry frowned. _That seems a bit unfair_, he thought. "Well, if you want to approach him, that's fine. Make sure he signs the contract, and I'd like to talk with him before you actually hire him."

Peter nodded in understanding, and they walked back to the cabinet that would send them back to the Wilson's home.

As Harry left the house, he turned back to his friend. "Feel free to use Timeland whenever you want," he said.

"If I need to, I will, but I don't want to spend too much time there," Peter replied. "It's rightfully yours, so I wouldn't want to intrude, and besides, I'd rather not spend too much time away from my family."

"That makes sense," the boy responded.

"I'll let you know what I find out about the Stone, and about Chad," the older man promised as Harry began walking out to the street to summon the Knight Bus.

* * *

The trip back to Hogwarts was uneventful. Harry was half-expecting to be confronted by the headmaster when he returned, but the bearded man was nowhere to be seen. _Maybe he's busy trying to find a new DADA teacher_, the boy thought. Whatever the reason, Harry was glad to be able to avoid the encounter.

Somehow, the days passed slowly and quickly at the same time. Slowly, because there wasn't much to do each day, and yet Harry was still surprised at how quickly the New Year rolled around. Staying up late was fun, even if there were only a few others in the dorm. And soon enough, the other students were back.

The returning feast was a true culinary masterpiece, as it always was at Hogwarts. It was fun to see his friends again, and yet, Harry's attention was mostly upon the unknown face up at the head table.

"How much you want to bet that's the new DADA teacher?" Harry asked Hermione and Neville, gesturing to the man.

"Bit of a change from Lockhart," Neville commented. And he was right. Their new professor wore a set of shabby, threadbare robes. His face looked prematurely lined, and there was quite a bit of grey hair mixed in with the light brown. And yet, Harry couldn't shake the thought that there was something about him that somehow seemed familiar, though the young Gryffindor had no idea why.

After the food disappeared, he finally got the answer to the mystery of the new teacher.

"And now that we have been fed and watered," Dumbledore said, "I would like to introduce to you all your new professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Lupin," He announced grandly as the man in question stood and gave a brief wave.

_Remus Lupin? _Harry thought as he walked the familiar path back to Gryffindor tower. _Now that's interesting._

* * *

A/N – I think out of all the characters in HP, James Potter is probably the one that sparks the most debate and discussion, which is interesting considering how little we really know. Many people hate him, thinking he's an unrepentant bully that picked on Snape, driving him to join Voldemort. Many people think he's a valiant champion of good that fought back against the evil junior DE's. I tend to think it's somewhere in the middle. Yes, Remus and Sirius admitted that the Marauders crossed the line at times. But even Lily agreed that while James was arrogant, he certainly wasn't as bad as some of the others. It's easy to imagine things escalating over the years between James and Snape until they would take any opportunity to attack the other, with neither boy being wholly good or bad.

I find it amazing how many people completely ignore everything that Snape did throughout the books to Harry and his friends and instead paint him as a persecuted innocent based on one very specific memory that Snape deliberately chose showing James in the worst light. That garbage about it being his worst memory was just an excuse. He intentionally put it in the pensieve for Harry to see, otherwise there was no reason to have the pensieve there during the occlumency lessons. It was intended to destroy Harry's opinion of his father, and many readers fell for it as well.

So, for any Snape fans out there, be warned – this isn't going to be one of those stories where he realizes that Harry really is his mother's son and does a complete 180. It doesn't matter who Harry's parents are. An adult using their position of authority to make a child miserable is guilty of abuse, no matter what the child's parents may have done. Snape is a despicable man who only regretted joining a group of murderers because it got the girl he was crushing on killed. James certainly wasn't perfect, but Snape was worse.


	12. Chapter 11: The Heir Returns

Chapter 11: The Heir Returns

After the other boys had fallen asleep, Harry was still wide awake, thinking about the new professor. Remus Lupin. He remembered the name very well, given how frequently it had appeared in his mother's diary – primarily lamenting the fact that such a seemingly nice boy had fallen in with that scoundrel James Potter. He had been the male prefect in their fifth year, so she got to know him a little bit better then.

And then something had happened involving Remus, his dad, Snape, and one of his dad's other friends, a man named Sirius Black. Whatever it was, his mother had been very cautious about writing it even in her supposedly private diary. Harry didn't have a clue about the event itself, but it must have been something significant.

After his parents were married, Remus Lupin had been mentioned only rarely, especially as they began to grow more and more distrustful of Dumbledore, whom Lupin apparently revered. When considering the idea of forming their own anti-Voldemort group (having grown dissatisfied with Dumbledore's leadership), they made certain not to mention the idea to Lupin.

_Should I approach him and admit that I know he was friends with my parents?_ Harry considered this thought for a while. It would be nice to meet someone who had been close to them. Peter was a good person but hadn't really interacted with them directly outside of student leadership duties. The idea of someone who could share real, personal accounts of his parents' experiences at Hogwarts filled Harry with a sort of longing that he had never before felt. But he knew that he couldn't risk it. While it may not be too difficult to find some excuse for how he knew Lupin's name (Hagrid, after all, had told Harry several stories about his dad and his mischievous group of friends) he didn't want anyone looking too closely.

_No_, Harry finally decided, _I'll wait until he approaches me. If he tells me that he was friends with my parents, I can ask him about them, and let that relationship develop without any clues that I know more about my parents then people think._ He knew it was the right decision, but it still hurt. Peter and Heather were wonderful, and in the short time that he had known them, had become sort of like what he imagined an older brother and sister might be like, but Harry still craved a relationship with someone who had really known his parents. He could only hope that the new professor could provide that.

_Of course, _Harry realized, _my parents had other friends as well._ Remus Lupin had been only one of his father's close friends, the others being Sirius Black (who had been best man at his parents' wedding) and Peter Pettigrew. Harry hadn't tried contacting either of them, but maybe he should.

His mother, from what Harry could tell from the diary, hadn't been particularly close with any of the other girls in her year. They were friends, but it wasn't the sort of enduring friendship that lasted beyond Hogwarts. During her time in the Order of the Phoenix, she had been close to Marlene McKinnon and Alice Longbottom, but Harry knew the McKinnons had been killed just shortly before his parents, and the Longbottoms incapacitated shortly after (though he hadn't investigated to find out what exactly happened to them, respecting Neville's privacy, and figuring that the other boy would tell him when he was ready).

Harry eventually drifted off to sleep, mind still whirling with thoughts about getting in touch with his parents' friends.

* * *

A few days passed, and finally, Harry was sitting in the DADA room with the other Gryffindors, ready for their first lesson with the new professor. The general consensus among the students who had already had a lesson with Lupin was that he was a big improvement over Lockhart (granted, not a terribly difficult achievement), so Harry was certainly looking forward to it. It would also, hopefully, mark his first interaction with one of his father's best friends, so Harry was looking forward to it for another reason as well.

The side door opened, and Professor Lupin entered, still in old robes, and looking just a little under the weather. "Good afternoon," he said cheerfully. "I understand that your previous teacher in this subject may not have been as focused on your education as he should have been, so I'd like for us to have a class discussion about what you have learned, what you think you should learn, and how you think this class will help you in the future. I would like to stress that there are no right or wrong answers here," he added with a warm smile. "I am not looking to grade you or judge you, I just want to get an accurate picture of what you know right now, and what your expectations are."

Even Hermione seemed a little intimidated by the idea of such a discussion, probably at the idea of telling a teacher what she thought they should learn. After all, it was normally the other way around.

Harry finally raised his hand. "Lockhart really didn't teach us anything. Just made us learn about the accomplishments he stole from other people."

Lupin nodded. "I had, of course, heard of that. And while I consider what Lockhart did to be thoroughly despicable, there may be something to be said for learning from other people's adventures. Part of the reason that Lockhart was so successful in persuading people to believe his lies is because there was a very large grain of truth in what he wrote. In each case, those stories really did happen, it was just someone far more skilled than Lockhart that was the true hero. By studying what they did, the spells and skills that they used, we can learn and prepare for similar challenges in our own lives."

While Lupin's point was valid, it did nothing to stop the collective groan from the students. "Does that mean that we have to keep reading those books?" Ron complained.

"They won't be our focus, but you already have them, so we might as well get some use out of them. As I said, while Lockhart lied in order to make himself the focus of each adventure, the actual accounts contained in the books are surprisingly accurate, and you can learn from them. We will go through each book quickly, and I will highlight the parts that you should remember, and the parts that are not as important." The class seemed a little more accepting of this, and Lupin continued. "Now, how do you expect to use the skills that I teach you when you get out into the real world? Why do you think that Defense Against the Dark Arts is a required course?" he prompted.

* * *

As the rest of the students packed their bags and left the room, Harry whispered to Hermione and Neville that they should go ahead without him. Trying to appear casual, Harry approached the professor.

"Excuse me, Professor Lupin? I was hoping to ask you a few quick questions about this class," he said.

Up close, the teacher looked even more tired and worn than Harry had previously thought, but he still replied with a smile. "Of course, Mister Potter. What can I do for you?"

"Well, Lockhart focused entirely on his supposed adventures, which were about dangerous creatures. Is that going to be your focus as well, or will you be covering something else? You talked about learning from the books, but I don't really expect to be facing a Yeti or a werewolf any time soon."

"Excellent questions," the teacher responded. "I do think that you may be surprised by how common such encounters really are. Werewolves, for instance, only transform during the full moon, so, at any other time, you could be talking to one and not even realize it," he said with a small smile. "The magical world is a remarkable place, full of wonderful things, but there are also dangers, and not just from other wizards. It is important that you learn about the creatures as well. For example, I'm hoping to cover one creature, called a boggart, soon, given that it is surprisingly common, especially in old or abandoned homes. There are other creatures that we need to learn about, as well."

"So, no spells or anything like that?" Harry asked, somewhat disappointedly.

"We will be learning a few spells, but the majority of them will be focused on dealing with potentially dangerous creatures. That is what the Headmaster has asked me to focus on for this year," the professor replied.

"Okay," the boy replied with a sigh. He couldn't really expect Lupin to go against his boss, after all.

"Anything else, Mister Potter?" the man asked, his tone still polite, but formal.

"Uh, no, I don't think so," Harry responded. "Thank you for your time," he said with a smile as he left.

In truth, he was hoping that the teacher would stop him as he walked away, but Lupin said nothing. As he left the room, Harry could feel the smile slip off his face as disappointment set in. Apparently, Lupin had no desire to connect with the son of his friends.

_Well, I guess I'll have to reach out to some of their other friends,_ Harry thought as he walked off.

* * *

Connecting with his father's other friends turned out to be more difficult than Harry had expected. After all, one was dead, and the other was in the wizard prison, Azkaban, for the rest of his life.

"And with all those reports you got from the ministry, there's nothing about why Black did it?" Harry asked again, still struggling to fully comprehend the horrible news Peter had just given him.

"Those were all trials. I double checked, and Black's trial isn't in there."

"Why not?" Harry inquired, trying not to sound like a complaining child.

"There must have been something classified," Peter replied. "There were a few trials like that. There was quite a big furor when it was discovered that one of the Unspeakables had joined the Death Eaters." Seeing Harry's confused expression, he explained. "Unspeakables work for the Department of Mysteries doing top-secret research. There had been numerous rumors and suggestions that the Department had been infiltrated, or was secretly supporting You-Know-Who, but the Ministry repeatedly insisted that they had made sure the Unspeakables were all loyal. Anyway, when it was revealed in a highly publicized trial that one of the Unspeakables, a man named Augustus Rookwood, really was a Death Eater, the Wizengamot declared everything related to the man a secret, despite repeated protests from many people. I don't remember the specifics, because Heather and I had already begun pulling away from magical society and spending most of our time in the muggle world, but I remember that it was a hotly contested issue for months. Sirius Black's trial may have been something like that."

"But he wasn't one of these… Unspeakables, was he?" Harry asked.

"No," Peter answered, then backtracked quickly. "Or at least, I don't think so. There's nothing to indicate that he was, but he might have had other confidential information that he revealed during the trial. You said that he was in Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix; maybe it was something to do with that," he suggested.

"I just wish I knew why he did it," Harry sighed. "In my mum's diary, he and my dad always seemed like brothers. Why would he betray them like that? And murdering one of their other friends, killing so many innocent people… It just doesn't make any sense," he finished.

"I can look into it, see what I can find out," Peter suggested. "It shouldn't raise too many eyebrows for Professor Plum to make another appearance, this time asking about one of the most infamous of the Death Eaters. But I wouldn't get your hopes up. It's likely that whatever classified information Black knew, the ministry is going to be guarding it closely."

"That would be great. Thank you," Harry said sincerely.

"That's what you're paying me for," Peter replied with a smile. "Anything else before we leave?"

"Nothing else," Harry confirmed. "I'll see you next week."

"I'll let you know if I find anything important, otherwise, I'll see you then," Peter agreed.

They both exited the office, then made their way to the respective vanishing cabinets that they had used to come to Timeland. After climbing the ladder out of the trunk, Harry found himself back in a deserted Hogwarts classroom.

With both he and Peter having access to Timeland, it was a piece of cake to arrange face to face meetings, and, thanks to the accelerated passage of time, he would be gone from Hogwarts for less than a minute, minimizing the chances of being discovered. With a tap of his wand to the rune on the lid, the trunk returned to its tiny size, which Harry picked up and put in his pocket. He exited the classroom, then began walking to the library, where he had agreed to meet Hermione and Neville.

* * *

A few weeks passed without incident. The _Daily Prophet_ reported that Lockhart had been sentenced to Azkaban for ten years for his crimes. Harry had been hoping that Dumbledore would have gotten in trouble as well for hiring the fraud, not to mention Snape, for trying to take his place in a duel, but if there had been any consequences for either man, it wasn't reported. Given Dumbledore's position as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, he likely had the connections needed to avoid any real punishment, so Harry wasn't overly surprised, but still a little disappointed.

Unfortunately for Harry, the brief span of peace and quiet ended quite dramatically one evening during the last week of January.

"There is no way I'm staying for a dueling lesson if Snape is one of the teachers," Harry said, eyes narrowed at the greasy-haired professor.

"Just stay away from him, and it'll be alright," Hermione assured him. "Professor Lupin looks like he'll be doing most of the teaching. Professor Snape is probably just here to help demonstrate."

Hermione proved to be correct, and after just a few minutes, Harry was glad he had chosen to come. Unlike either of his previous DADA instructors, Lupin had a real gift for teaching, explaining things clearly, without coming across as condescending or patronizing. They quickly broke up into pairs, with Neville and Hermione working together, and Harry being paired with a Hufflepuff named Justin Finch-Fletchley. They practiced disarming, with each boy successfully casting the spell a few times. Justin was pleasant enough, even if he was a bit pompous.

After a few minutes of practicing, they were instructed to find new partners, and Harry found himself facing Padma Patil, the identical twin sister of his fellow Gryffindor, Parvati. It was quite strange to see a serious, focused expression on a face that he normally associated with vapid comments about hairstyles and gossip magazines.

Padma proved quickly to be a step above Justin in casting ability, her wand movements quick and tight as she sent spell after spell at Harry's shield charm. Fortunately, while her spells were excellent, there wasn't much power behind them, so Harry had no trouble maintaining his shield. She quickly tired, and Harry countered with a _Rictusempra_, which hit just before she managed to get her own shield up. Padma fell to her knees, laughing so hard that tears began to flow down her cheeks.

Lupin, seeing what had happened, rushed over and applied the counter-charm. Padma rose, taking a few deep breaths. "Good hit, Potter," she said after a moment.

"Thanks. Good spell work earlier," he replied. "Sorry, I didn't mean to put so much power behind that tickling charm," he added sheepishly.

"After seeing what you did to Lockhart, I should have expected that your spells would be a bit more potent than Lisa's," she said, looking somewhat rueful.

Forcing down a blush, he quickly tried to change the subject. "Well, do you want to go again?" he asked.

She took a few more breaths, then nodded. "Sure. That's what we're here for."

This time, Harry was careful how much power he put on his spells, but he still won decisively. Padma just didn't have any spells with the strength necessary to break his shield, which he was able to cast quickly enough to block whatever she tried. As they switched partners again, she thanked him, seeming genuine, but at the same time, relieved to be paired with someone else.

This time, Harry was up against Hannah Abbott. Whether it was because she was too timid, or because she didn't really know any spells, Hannah hardly did anything during their duels. Harry felt a little bit bad as the girl was hit by the third spell in under a minute. After that, by mutual agreement, they stopped, with Harry watching the other duels carefully, and Hannah returning to the side of her friend Susan for more gossip.

A loud, sharp whistle brought all eyes back to Lupin a few minutes later. "I hope you all had a good time tonight, and that you all learned something," he said, raising his voice to be heard over the din of the students. "We've got just a few more minutes, so I was thinking we could have a little exhibition duel up on the stage here. Who should we have duel?" he asked the assembled students.

It didn't take long. "Potter!" came the cry from somewhere in the crowd. Several other voices quickly agreed, and Harry found himself being gently pushed forward. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to, but there was some part that thought it would be nice to show off his skills once more in front of the other students.

"Mister Potter, would you like to participate? You don't have to," the teacher reassured him.

"I'll do it," Harry said as he walked over to the stairs.

"Who wants to go up against Mister Potter?" Lupin asked. "Let's limit it to third year and below."

The younger students looked awkwardly at each other, before a voice called out, "I will!" Harry groaned internally. He knew that voice.

"Alright, Mister Malfoy, come on up here."

Harry and Draco glared at each other from opposite ends of the dueling stage. "Spells are limited to what we learned tonight, or any spell you have learned in class up until now. Begin on three," Lupin called. "One, two, three!"

To Harry, it looked as though Draco had begun a little early, but it didn't matter. Harry's immediate shield charm blocked whatever spell the blond boy had just cast, along with the next two that quickly followed. Harry dropped the shield for just a second, trying to repeat what he had done to Padma. Putting as much force into it as he could, he shot a tickling charm toward his enemy, who tried to dodge, put still got hit a little on the arm.

Malfoy fell to his knees, trying to stifle the laughter. Harry relaxed and lowered his wand, realizing too late the mistake as Malfoy took aim and called out '_Tarantallegra!'_ between gasps.

Harry's legs began to twitch uncontrollably, and he nearly fell over. Lupin quickly cancelled the jinx on Harry, and the young Gryffindor looked over to see Snape helping Malfoy to his feet. Harry's eyes narrowed as he saw Snape whisper something to the blond Slytherin, but he wasn't close enough to hear anything.

"Another round, perhaps?" the potions professor suggested.

Both boys nodded, and took their positions, each determined to make up for the previous round.

As Lupin counted down again, Harry once more prepared to cast a shield charm, the incantation on his lips. The instant Lupin finished the word 'three', he began to cast.

Draco, however, had taken a different approach than Harry was expecting. "_Serpensortia_," the boy bellowed, and to Harry's shock, a large, black snake shot out of his opponent's wand.

There were screams from the crowd as the snake rose up, ready to strike. Snape seemed to be enjoying the panic, a small smirk on his face. Harry, however, remembered something he had practiced during his preparations for the duel with Lockhart.

"Wingardium Leviosa," he muttered, giving the required swish, but instead of the flick at the end, he kept the wand pointed at the snake. It rose a few inches into the air. With a bit of a smirk, Harry curled his wrist, then snapped his wand forward, now pointing it at the blond boy facing him.

Malfoy shrieked in fear as the snake flew toward him, falling back on his arse just in time for the snake, which would have hit his legs, to hit him in the face instead.

Malfoy's cries of panic turned to screams of pain as Snape and Lupin rushed over to try to extricate the boy from the angry snake.

* * *

Harry met the furious glare of his head of house without a hint of remorse.

"With all due respect, Professor, Malfoy was the one who broke the terms of the duel. He summoned the snake. And to deal with it, I used a spell that was permitted under the terms of the duel."

"And yet, he is the one in the hospital wing," she responded coldly.

"Yes, he was injured because he did something he shouldn't have done, and I responded in a perfectly appropriate way."

"It is not 'perfectly appropriate' to hit your opponent in the face with a poisonous reptile," the teacher cried.

"Then Malfoy shouldn't have summoned the poisonous reptile in the first place. I took his actions and turned them around. Hoisted on his own petard, I believe is the saying."

"Mister Malfoy's actions were intended to intimidate, not harm. He conjured the snake in the middle of the dueling stage. You escalated by flinging that snake at him. He may have been out of line, but you went far beyond what he did. Detention for one week. You are dismissed."

"Well, I guess I can put this one down on the list of undeserved punishments," Harry retorted angrily as he turned and walked away.

* * *

Not too surprisingly, Hermione agreed with McGonagall. While Harry didn't like the idea of his friends fighting, he had to admit that it was nice that Neville was willing to stand up for him.

"Malfoy was the one that broke the rules when he conjured that snake, Hermione," the boy whispered angrily as they sat in the library. "Harry was allowed to use a levitation charm. Malfoy was hurt because he broke the rules. It's that simple."

"Alright, that's enough," Harry interjected, cutting off Hermione's retort. "Regardless of what we think about it, it's unlikely that I'll get the punishment overturned, so I'll just have to deal with it. There's no point in fighting anymore."

Hermione looked like she disagreed, but let the matter drop. "What are you looking for?" she asked, eyeing the small pile of spell books he was flipping through.

"That spell Malfoy used. I want to know more about it. He somehow managed to conjure a poisonous snake. We aren't even supposed to start learning conjuration until after our OWL's. I want to know how he learned so early."

Hermione frowned. "That does seem unlikely." Malfoy was a decent student, certainly not as stupid as the two gorillas who followed him everywhere, but proficiently casting spells several years above his age level was a bit… improbable, to say the least.

After a few more minutes, Harry finally found what he was looking for. "Serpensortia," he mumbled, reading it softly to himself. The more he read, the more pronounced the frown on his face grew. "What's a parselmouth?" he asked, looking up at his friends.

"Someone who can talk to snakes," Hermione replied absentmindedly. "It's typically associated with the dark arts, given that both Slytherin and You-Know-Who were parselmouths."

"Good to know," Harry said softly as he turned back to the book, grateful that he had never told anyone he could also speak to snakes. Finally, he handed the heavy tome over to Hermione. "Would you read this and tell me what you think," he requested.

She shot him a questioning look, but did as he asked. A few minutes later, she set the book down, now looking a bit more uncertain. "It's a non-spatial summoning charm, used to summon a snake within a certain range of the wizard. A true master can select a particular snake out of any in range to summon, but most people just get the nearest snake. Invented by the famous healer, Paracelsus, a known Parselmouth," she summarized quickly.

"Yeah, I got all that from the book," he said, a little irritated that she apparently thought he needed help understanding it. "I meant, what do you think about the implications. Because according to this description, it sounds like Malfoy must have prepared that in advance. He deliberately put a poisonous snake somewhere nearby so that he'd be able to cast this spell."

Hermione looked a little uncomfortable, but reluctantly nodded her head. "Yes, I would agree with that conclusion."

"So that's even more proof that Malfoy is the one at fault," Neville muttered, ignoring the slight glare the lone girl at the table sent his way.

"Yes, it does imply that Malfoy made a conscious decision in advance to summon the snake, rather than just doing so in the heat of the moment, but it doesn't change the fact that Harry overreacted," she finished with a pointed look at her messy-haired friend.

"No, I responded with an acceptable spell, used in an acceptable dueling tactic. While uncommon, it is permitted to use charms to throw objects at each other," Harry retorted.

"It's like the stories they tell about people during the war who defended themselves against Death Eaters, only to be arrested by the Aurors for things like 'excessive force'. Harry didn't do anything wrong. He responded to a situation that Malfoy created. Malfoy is to blame, not Harry," Neville said with a glare.

Hermione didn't respond, but it was clear that she was not convinced.

* * *

To Harry's frustration, it seemed that many of the other students agreed with Hermione's interpretation of events. Rumors filled the halls as he walked, with the stories growing in each telling, until even the students who had been there seemed to think that they saw Harry laugh evilly as he sent the snake chasing after a fleeing Malfoy.

It was annoying, but Harry realized that losing his temper would not help in convincing the other students that he had done nothing wrong. Instead, he just ignored the whispers and the dark looks, pretending he didn't notice.

Fortunately, Quidditch provided a distraction, both for Harry, as Oliver ramped up the number of practices as the weather improved, and for the rest of the students, as the match approached. While the third match of the year was normally Slytherin versus Ravenclaw, because Malfoy still claimed to be injured, the schedule had been switched. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff would be playing, with the Slytherin – Ravenclaw match being pushed back a few weeks.

Peter had found out a little more information about Sirius Black. After treating a junior clerk to some rounds at the Leaky Cauldron and slipping him a few galleons, he had been given a copy of the arrest and incident report where Black was taken into custody after killing Pettigrew and twelve muggles.

Unfortunately, this just raised more questions than it answered.

"It makes no sense for someone who was inevitably facing life in prison to be taken without a fight," Peter emphasized. "Something is fishy about this account."

"What do you think it is?" Harry asked.

"I don't know for sure. But I have a feeling that whatever really happened is what the Wizengamot was so desperate to cover up. I've never even heard of a spell that could do that much damage. A blasting hex that could destroy an entire street? Make a hole as deep as a man even through solid asphalt? Maybe it was a new spell that drains a lot more energy from the caster than Black had expected. Maybe it was actually some sort of weapon." Peter frowned thoughtfully for a moment, then continued. "I think whatever happened, Black was already incapacitated, which is why he didn't put up a fight. But for some reason, someone is trying to keep it all secret."

"Were there any witnesses?"

"They were all muggles. While the investigators did take their statements, the accounts tend to contradict each other more than they agree, which makes sense given that they don't know about magic, so they had no reference for understanding what they saw. And, of course, the ones who would have had the best view were the ones who were killed."

"Is there anything most of them agree on that stands out to you?" Harry asked, desperate for any sort of clue.

"Well, they're not the type of thing you're probably hoping for, but I did notice a few somewhat unusual facts that stuck out. All the witnesses agreed that Pettigrew shouted something when he saw Black. Most of them agreed that what he said was 'Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?'." Peter looked a little uncomfortable now. "There's two things about that statement that seem odd. The first is that, from what I understand, Black didn't play any role in the attack on your parents. Voldemort was the one that attacked them. And the second thing, though I don't think it's particularly relevant, is that Pettigrew's phrasing seems a bit odd."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

Peter thought for a minute. "I have two siblings, a brother and a sister. Both are married. When I'm talking about my brother and his wife, I say, 'Mark and Nancy' but when I'm talking about my sister and her husband, I say, 'Sandra and Phil'. In both cases, I put the name of the one that I feel closer to first. If Pettigrew had been friends with your Dad all through Hogwarts, and only grew close to your Mum in the last years, I would have expected him to say 'James and Lily' rather than the other way around. Again, I don't think that it is all that significant, but it is something that I noticed was a little bit strange."

Harry frowned. "Doesn't seem like it matters that much," he finally said.

"I agree," came the reply. "But it was something that I noticed, so I thought I should pass it along."

"So, Black might have had something to do with Voldemort coming after my parents," Harry said with a frown. "How? And why? And how would Pettigrew have known?"

Peter, of course, had no answers.

* * *

Peter's discoveries continued to haunt Harry, who even began to have nightmares about the things he had learned. It was always in the back of his mind, like a persistent itch he couldn't get rid of. He knew there was something odd about the whole affair, but just couldn't figure out what it was.

As he returned from the library, having just finished an essay for herbology that he had been putting off, Harry found the common room abuzz with frantic, hushed conversations. Everyone seemed to stop and stare as he came in, then the whispering resumed.

"What's going on?" Harry asked as he approached Neville and Hermione.

"Someone was attacked. The Heir of Slytherin struck again," Neville said in a low voice.

Shock and confusion filled the dark-haired Gryffindor. He glanced over at the huddled first years, and was relieved to see Ginny there, still looking healthy, but concerned. Now even more confused, he turned his attention back to his friends.

"Who?"

"A fifth year Hufflepuff named Aaron Mitchell."

Harry's eyes widened in shock. He knew that name. Aaron Mitchell was one of the chasers for the Hufflepuff team, probably the only muggleborn member of any of the Quidditch teams.

"He was brutally attacked, then left bleeding in the corridor. The heir left another message, written in blood," Hermione said, then swallowed deeply.

"What did it say?" Harry finally demanded.

"_No one can stand against the true Heir."_

* * *

A/N – Harry still doesn't know that Lupin is a werewolf. I imagine Lily was the type of person who understood the idea of "careless talk costs lives" and would be very cautious to ensure that she didn't ever say or write something that could reveal confidential information, even in her diary. Of course, there's a real question of how much of a secret Lupin's lycanthropy is, given that Fenrir Greyback undoubtedly knew, and thus, the Death Eaters probably would have known as well. But it doesn't appear that Lucius Malfoy, for example, was aware before Snape spilled the beans. And Dumbledore isn't going to let Snape drop little hints – he's having enough trouble from hiring Lockhart that he doesn't want anyone to find out he just hired a werewolf.

I find the Serpensortia charm to be… problematic. The description in the books is a bit vague, but seems to imply that Malfoy created the snake, rather than summoning it. I don't like the idea of it being a true conjuration, that is, creating something from nothing. The idea that Malfoy is skilled enough as a 2nd year to conjure a snake that can understand parseltongue is ridiculous. In book 6, Hermione conjures some birds while moping about Ron and Lavender, and Harry is impressed by her spell work. Surely a snake would be at least as difficult, if not more so. So, I decided to go with the non-spatial summoning charm described above. Still a bit of a stretch, but whatever.

Also, I know I'm not the first to notice that it's very suspicious that Snape plays a major role in Harry being revealed as a Parselmouth at the exact time that everyone is suspicious about this "Heir of Slytherin" that's attacking people. I don't think that's just a coincidence… which suggests that Dumbledore was ultimately behind it, or how else would Snape have known?


	13. Chapter 12: Prongs's Legacy

Chapter 12: Prongs's Legacy

It didn't take long for the whispers to start. Hushed conversations filled the halls, with people frequently glancing over at Harry with suspicious expressions. In some ways, he had actually been expecting it. _And doesn't that say a lot about the students in this stupid school, _he thought morosely.

Somehow, the student body as a whole had decided that Harry was responsible for the attack on Aaron Mitchell. Harry still wasn't sure what motive the other students had settled on. Some said that it was because Harry was desperate to win the upcoming Quidditch match. Some said that he was incensed at the idea of a muggleborn playing on a house Quidditch team. Some said it was simply an attack of opportunity. But almost everyone agreed that Harry was the culprit.

The Hufflepuff team did have an alternate Chaser, so the game went ahead as planned. Fortunately for Harry, it was a short game, which meant that the Badgers, who were being surprisingly aggressive, particularly toward Harry, didn't have many chances to take a shot at him.

"The 'Puffs sure were brutal out there," Neville said as Harry sat down at the table where the other two members of the trio were studying.

"Bit of an understatement," Harry replied, rubbing his shoulder where Thaddeus Cribbner, a burly seventh year and Captain of the Hufflepuff Team, had crashed into him, nearly knocking Harry off his broom.

"I'm sure they'll come around once everyone's had a chance to think about it and realizes it wasn't you," Hermione reassured him. "In the meantime, try not to let it bother you."

"You know, I read a book over the summer. _A Spell for Chameleon_, I think it was called," Harry said, keeping his voice deliberately light. "It had this quote that I really liked. 'One day you'll discover that the opinions of worthless people are worthless.' It's very true." He smiled in a somewhat vicious way, ignoring the concerned look on Hermione's face. "I think that'll be my new motto."

"They're not worthless, Harry, just scared."

"I've never once demonstrated any sort of prejudice against muggleborns. Despite how I was treated last year, I didn't respond with violence. And yet, somehow, they now think that I'm running around beating people up? If they can't see that's insane, then yes, Hermione, they are worthless."

"Maybe it would help if you don't phrase it quite like that when you say it to others," Neville suggested carefully.

Harry rolled his eyes, but said nothing, instead grabbing his charms textbook and starting the essay Flitwick had assigned them.

* * *

That night, Harry made a trip to Timeland while his dormmates were sleeping. He'd been thinking about his parents and their relationship with Sirius Black for weeks now. He just couldn't understand how the man could have gone against everything they stood for and joined the Death Eaters. Harry had decided that there might have been some clues that he had previously missed in his mother's diary, so he was going to read through it once more, looking for anything that might give hints about Black, or his father's other friends.

This was a rather daunting prospect, truth be told. Lily Potter had been a very prolific writer. Her diary spanned sixteen volumes, each with about a hundred pages. Small, but easily legible handwriting filled each page, front and back. Rereading it all (or at least, from her first year of Hogwarts on) would be a major investment of time, but if it brought Harry even a little bit of peace of mind, it would be worth it.

* * *

Harry put down his pen, studying his notes carefully. He hadn't bothered copying down every detail, but there were several things that hinted at some secret his father's band of friends had been hiding.

\- Lupin sick frequently while at Hogwarts (recurring illness?)

\- Something _top secret_ happened fifth year. Snape, Black, Dad, and Lupin involved. Black seems to be mostly to blame. Lupin involved, but Mum doesn't seem to blame him. (Prank gone wrong?) Mum actually seemed to approve of whatever Dad did.

\- Mum and Dad start dating seventh year. She starts to get to know Black and Pettigrew.

\- Black nicknamed Padfoot. Pettigrew nicknamed Wormtail. (Same as Wormy mentioned later?) Moony also mentioned. (maybe Lupin's nickname? Did Dad have a nickname?)

\- Mum thinks nicknames have some sort of significance.

\- At graduation party, Black gets "very friendly" with Nicole Chambers. (Who is that? Does this really matter?)

\- Mum and Dad get married May 19, 1979. Black best man at wedding. Marlene McKinnon maid of honor. Originally planned on May 12 but changed it because of Lupin. (Date was changed two months in advance. Why couldn't he come when first planned? And how would they know so far in advance that he would be unavailable?)

\- Mum knew the secret behind the nicknames by June 24 (when did she find out? Maybe Dad told her when they got married?) Thought the names were somewhat foolish, and in Lupin's case, could be dangerous. (Why? How can a name be dangerous? Reveals something incriminating?) Something about the nicknames was a "kind thing" for Lupin (What?)

\- Black gone for five weeks shortly after they married. (some sort of mission for Order?)

\- "A dog is perfect for Sirius because he's so loyal" (What does this mean? Did Black own a dog? A play on his name?)

\- Big fight with DE's on Halloween 1979. Start to think Dumbledore is going about things the wrong way. Talk it over with Black and Pettigrew. Don't mention anything to Lupin.

\- Mum thinks (jokingly?) that Black is more up to date on non-magical society than she is. He reads the newspaper every day so that he'll have something to talk about when he tries to chat up girls at Uni bars. (That doesn't sound like a DE. Was he actually doing that? Could he have been meeting with DE's, rather than going to bars? Doesn't sound like Mum or Dad ever went with him)

\- Lupin frequently gone for Order on dangerous assignments

\- Mum frustrated at not being able to do more to fight V while pregnant

\- I'm born. Black comes over frequently to help so Mum and Dad can get some sleep. Pettigrew and Lupin both seem to be a bit uncomfortable around me.

\- "Harry loves playing with Sirius as Padfoot" (What does this mean? Sirius is Padfoot.)

\- Black calls me 'Prongslet' (Why? Is it related to Dad's nickname?)

\- Mum puts finishing touches on time compression vault mid-August 1980.

\- Dumbledore asks Dad to go on mission for Order. Dad refuses because it would be a long one. Black goes instead. (What did Dumbledore think about Dad saying no?)

\- Pettigrew's mother sick. Dad offers to pay for Saint Mungo's if necessary, but Pettigrew doesn't accept. Pettigrew doesn't do much with Order.

\- Black comes over for Christmas 1980. Mentions muggle girl named Melissa that he has been seeing. Mum thinks it sounds serious, wonders if Black is thinking of proposing. Wonders how she'll explain the magical world to the girl, and the current war against V if Black does get married.

\- Spring 1981, Pettigrew and Black agree to help Mum and Dad make their own anti-V group. Black suggests oaths to enforce loyalty. Pettigrew will research potential DE's. Also approach Gideon and Fabian Prewett.

\- Black on long-term mission for Order. Mum wonders if Dumbledore knows about their group and is trying to break it up.

\- Dad and Lupin get into argument about Dumbledore. Lupin insists on trusting D.

\- My birthday. Black still on mission, sends a broomstick as a present. Lupin and Pettigrew come, along with some others. (Who is Bathilda? It sounds like she comes over a lot)

\- Dad and friends made a map while at Hogwarts, shows everyone's location. Seventh year, Pettigrew dropped it, and Filch found it. Mum wanted to recreate it, showing places besides Hogwarts.

\- Another argument with Lupin

\- Dumbledore suggests new spell to keep us safe. Called Fidelius Charm. Mum plans to research it. (Need to learn more about this spell)

\- Mum casts the spell. "We can only hope this trick will work" (what trick?)

\- Pettigrew and Black involved. Also uses Polyjuice Potion (is this related to why Pettigrew blames Black for my parents' death?)

Harry set the paper down, thinking hard, and making a valiant effort to ignore the slight moisture that had gathered in his eyes as the record grew closer and closer to that horrible Halloween night. Everything in the diary portrayed Sirius Black as a loyal friend. Granted, a somewhat immature, womanizing friend, but a loyal one, nonetheless. _Was he really pretending that whole time?_ Harry just couldn't see how that was possible.

And what was the big secret with Lupin and the nicknames? Harry was a little frustrated with his mother's tendency to be very mysterious and oblique about certain things, even in her diary.

With a sigh, he gathered up his papers. He'd think about it for a few more days, and if he didn't come up with anything, he'd discuss it with Peter.

* * *

The next day, everyone was talking about the same thing. Another student had been attacked. This time it was a Ravenclaw fourth year named Patricia Stimpson.

Harry was careful not to pay too much attention, but it wasn't difficult to overhear Parvati and Lavender's whispers as they discussed it with a few friends from Hufflepuff while they all waited for Transfiguration to begin.

Apparently, the girl had been attacked shortly before curfew, and hadn't been found until morning. Like the attack on Aaron Mitchell, a message had been left behind in the victim's blood. This message, however, had been different. "The true Heir is above all," it had said.

Harry was more than a little irritated when he heard Hannah Abbot ask if Harry had ever indicated why he would be so angry at the girl, but forced himself not to react. _The opinions of worthless people are worthless,_ he reminded himself. Fortunately, all gossiping stopped when McGonagall strode into the room, and the students all turned their attention to the assignment for the day.

The whispers resumed after class, but Harry didn't pay them any attention. The Gryffindors walked quickly to the DADA classroom, where Professor Lupin was waiting.

"No need for books today," he happily announced. "We're going to have a bit of a hands-on lesson today. If you would all follow me, please…" He strode out the door they had just entered, walking briskly. Harry shot a confused look at Hermione and Neville, but it was clear that neither had any more clue what was going on than he did.

The students followed the teacher down a few flights of stairs, up another flight, then down a corridor that Harry was sure didn't exist the last time he came this way. Eventually, they ended up in a deserted classroom on the second floor.

Lupin opened the door and walked through, then turned to face the Gryffindors gathered near the entrance. "Now, who here has heard of a boggart?" he asked with a cheerful smile.

Harry frowned as Lupin led a short discussion, with input from Hermione and a few others, about the nature of boggarts. As Lupin began to walk over to the large cabinet that apparently held the creature, Harry interrupted with the question that had been bothering him.

"Professor, a boggart reveals a person's worst fear, correct?"

The professor turned to look at him, an expression of surprise and confusion on his face. "Yes, Mister Potter, as Miss Granger so eloquently stated."

"And if we're all standing here, we will all have to reveal our worst fears to each other. Is that correct?"

"Yes," the professor replied again. "That's the point. With multiple people, it will be confused."

"But it will, in all likelihood, still reveal a person's greatest fear. That seems like something that students shouldn't be required to share in a setting like this. Bullying is a real problem in Hogwarts, as you should remember," Harry pointed out.

Lupin looked taken back for a second. "As I should remember?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes," Harry replied. "You attended Hogwarts, did you not? And I am sure that during your time here, you saw some people bullying others. Do you think that those bullies would have respected people's fears, or would they have instead treated it as valuable information for an exceptionally cruel prank?"

Lupin had clearly not expected this, and took a moment to gather his thoughts. "I… can certainly see where you are coming from, Mister Potter. If anyone would prefer not to participate, they may gather by the door, well away from the boggart. I will ensure that it does not go near them, but they will still be able to see the lesson." He seemed almost surprised when Harry began to walk toward the door.

"Not much of a Gryffindor," Seamus fake whispered.

"I think you have some incorrect ideas about what courage is, Finnegan," Harry responded coldly as he turned to face his accuser. "Courage means doing what you think is right, regardless of outside pressure. In this case, it would be more cowardly for me to stay out of peer pressure than for me to do what I feel is right, which is to leave. I do not agree with the idea of people being compelled to reveal their fears to others. As such, I am choosing not to participate, not out of fear, but out of protest. And I encourage anyone who agrees that this is inappropriate to join me."

The students looked uneasily at each other. After a few seconds, Neville and Ron stepped over to join Harry, followed by Lavender, to Harry's surprise. Parvati soon moved to join her friend, leaving Sophie, Hermione, Dean and Seamus.

Sophie eventually joined the little group by the door, looking slightly uncomfortable. Seamus was now looking both confused and a bit uncomfortable, likely trying to figure out why he now felt that facing the terrifying shapeshifter was somehow the more cowardly option. Hermione looked torn between supporting her friends and following a teacher, but Professor Lupin apparently realized the situation he had created was getting out of hand.

"It's apparent that most of you feel that I should have put a little more thought into this lesson, and for that I apologize. I truly didn't intend to make anyone feel uncomfortable. For now, we'll hold off on this lesson, and I'll see if we could arrange for each of you to face the boggart individually, or with a small group of trusted friends. For now, however, I will demonstrate how to deal with a boggart. If you would all please line up along that wall so that you can have a clear view," he directed with a gesture.

The professor gave them a minute to get into position, then cast a spell at the cabinet. The door flew open, and the boggart emerged, looking like a silvery-white orb floating in the air.

"_Riddikulus_," Lupin intoned calmly, and the orb fell to the ground, now looking like some sort of bug, which scurried back into the wardrobe. The professor flicked his wand, and the doors swung shut with a heavy thud.

"Alright, now you know a little bit more about boggarts than you did before. Let's head back to the classroom. As I said, for those that are interested, I'll see if we can arrange for you to face a boggart under more controlled circumstances, but for now, it's about time for class to be done," the man said as he made his way to the door.

"I wonder why Professor Lupin's afraid of crystal balls," Lavender whispered to Parvati as they walked down the hall.

Harry hadn't given much thought to the professor's greatest fear, but now that Lavender mentioned it, there was something strange about it. He thought back. The orb had been perfectly round, but not all the same color. There were some darker patterns to it, as well. It wasn't a crystal ball. In fact, it looked more like…

Harry's mouth fell open in shock, but he hurriedly closed it and tried to pretend that nothing had happened. His mind, however, was racing furiously as the pieces came together.

_The boggart turned into a full moon. Lupin's nickname is Moony, which hints at something potentially dangerous for him. When we spoke a few weeks ago, he seemed secretly amused when he said that I could be talking to a werewolf and not even know it. That's the big secret,_ Harry realized. _Remus Lupin is a werewolf._

* * *

The day couldn't go fast enough for Harry. He insisted on staying close by Hermione, not wanting her to be alone when someone was attacking muggleborns, but he was impatient to go back to Timeland to review his notes with this new piece of information. He was convinced that with the clue he had discovered in DADA, he would be able to figure out more of the mystery. Both Hermione and Neville noticed that he was acting a little strange during dinner, but Harry did his best to deflect their questions nonchalantly.

Finally, after a few hours of studying in the library, the trio were making their way back to the Gryffindor dorms for the night. Harry waited impatiently in his bed until snores and the steady breathing of sleep filled the room, then quickly made his way to Timeland.

Fortunately, the time he had spent in the library with his friends had given Harry an idea of where to start. _If Lupin being a werewolf really is the key to the mysteries, I should learn more about werewolves._ Rather than going directly to the office, Harry continued down the hall to the large library, filled with shelves of books his parents had collected. Apparently, many old families gathered such a library, filled with uncommon tomes full of bits of forgotten lore. After searching for several minutes, Harry found a few books that would likely have information about werewolves.

He carried the books back to the office and began to read. In the second book, entitled _Beasts of Darkness_, Harry found the clue he was looking for.

_Being foul creatures, werewolves are well known to become vicious and violent when in the presence of good wizards and witches. It is believed, though, of course, it cannot be confirmed, that when in the presence of dark magic users, the fell beasts' thirst for violence is temporarily sated, and they remain quiescent. There have been some claims that they are also likely to remain docile when in the presence of a person under an animagus transformation, but this is frequently ascribed to mere superstition. Another possibility, of course, is that the monsters recognize the already questionable nature of anyone willing to learn such a dubious magical art._

"They were animagi," Harry whispered out loud in amazement. He grabbed the list of notes he had taken, scanning through them quickly, his smile growing ever wider as the pieces all fit together.

_Black was a dog. Mum thought that was appropriate, because he was so loyal. I enjoyed chasing him in his dog-form around the house when I was a baby._

He dashed back to the library and found a book on astronomy called _On the Movement of Celestial Spheres_, which had a table of the dates of significant astronomical events going back to the beginning of the century, including full moons. When he found the right page, he ran his finger down the list. "May twelfth, 1979," he muttered as he searched. Sure enough, he found it. _My parents originally scheduled their wedding on the full moon by accident but changed it so that Lupin could attend._

It all made sense. _That big event during fifth year must have had something to do with Lupin's lycanthropy. Somehow, Snape almost got attacked, and it was partly Black's fault,_ he realized.

As he continued reviewing the thoughts he had scribbled down, he noticed one aspect of the mystery he hadn't yet solved. He set the paper on the desk, thinking hard. _What animal was Pettigrew?_ Harry wondered. His nickname had been Wormtail, which had something to do with his animagus form. But what animal would fit that name?

Harry frowned as he stood and walked back to the library. His mother had collected a number of muggle books as well, including a large book of animals, with high quality, color pictures. He began to flip through page after page, looking for anything with a tail that could possibly be reminiscent of a worm.

Elephants, rhinos and hippos were quickly discounted due to their immense size, even though they had a somewhat worm-like tail. By the time he had reached the end of the book, Harry was quite confident Pettigrew had been a rat, mouse, or gerbil. Other possibilities included an armadillo, opossum, or bandicoot, but in those cases, there was a more prominent feature that would likely have been used as the source for the nickname instead of the tail.

Harry placed the book back on the shelf, then made his way back to the office, still deep in thought. He had solved the mystery of the diary, but it did really mean anything? It was interesting information about his father's friends, and made him wonder if his father had been an animagus as well (unfortunately, he hadn't found any clues on that matter), but that knowledge didn't change his current situation, he realized disappointedly. Nothing he had discovered answered the question of why Black did it.

Maybe it would help if he learned more about the Fidelius Charm his mother had mentioned. If she had studied up on the spell, as her diary suggested, then there would probably be some information about it somewhere in Timeland. Harry yawned as this thought crossed his mind.

Unfortunately, that would have to wait for another time. He was tired, and didn't want to spend another full day here. He would research the charm another time, he thought as he walked toward the large vanishing cabinet.

* * *

A few weeks passed without incident. Unfortunately, toward the end of March, the peace was broken by another attack. Harry had been making a point to stay near Hermione as much as possible while outside the dorms, not wanting to risk that she would be attacked by the Heir. This had the fortunate side-effect of providing Harry with a solid alibi, something Harry was grateful for when he noticed that most of the other students were no longer quite as fervent in their accusations, though there were still some who persisted in their mistaken beliefs.

Still, it left the more important question of who the real culprit was. Despite the assurances from the teachers, Harry had no faith that the adults were really trying all that hard to figure out who the perpetrator really was. He suspected that Lucius Malfoy was ultimately the one responsible, but the question of who at Hogwarts was actually attacking the students remained.

Fortunately, Harry had a plan. His time reviewing his mother's diary had reminded him of an object his father had made, which would be perfect for the current situation. Even better, it shouldn't be too difficult to get ahold of it. Harry smiled as he nudged the suit of armor next to him, a quiet but very noticeable ringing noise echoing through the dark, still hallways.

It didn't take long for Filch, the disagreeable old caretaker, to come and investigate the sound. With his beloved cat petrified, Filch had been in a horrible mood, and never passed up an opportunity to make the students miserable. As such, Harry didn't have any qualms about what he was about to do.

He carefully poked his wand out of the invisibility cloak he was wearing and pointed it at the angry man, who was now muttering to himself as he paced the hallway, looking for clues. "Stupefy," he whispered.

Filch dropped like a stone. Harry rushed over, grabbed the man and began dragging him toward an empty classroom, listening carefully for any sign that someone else was coming. Fortunately, it didn't take long.

Harry pulled out the veritaserum, and administered the needed dose to the unconscious man, then revived him.

"Did you confiscate a piece of parchment from Peter Pettigrew in the fall of 1977?"

"Yes," came the dull reply.

"Did you know what the parchment was?" he asked excitedly.

"I suspected that it was an enchanted map of Hogwarts, but I was never able to confirm that."

"Do you still have it?"

"No," the man responded, and Harry felt like pounding his head against the wall.

"Did you destroy it?" he demanded.

"No," Filch answered.

"Where is it?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," the old man replied.

Harry nodded. _Yes, that was a stupid question. _He thought for a moment. "Did someone take the map?"

"Yes."

"Do you have any idea who took the map?" Harry asked eagerly.

"I think it was the twin Weasley menaces," the man answered, somehow conveying anger despite his potioned state.

"Why do you think it was them?" Harry inquired.

"I noticed it was gone a few days after I had dragged them to my office after one of their ridiculous pranks. One of them dropped a dungbomb in my office, which I suspect was merely a distraction to allow the other to grab the map."

Harry almost laughed. That certainly did sound like Fred and George. Unfortunately, if they had the map, things were a lot more complicated. He looked at the man on the ground for a few more moments. "If you couldn't use it, why didn't you just destroy the map?"

"I hoped to figure out the password, so then I could use it to see when students were out of bed, rather than having to wander the halls."

_I wonder what Dad and his friends would have thought if their invention had been used like that? _Harry chuckled a little at the errant thought that flittered through his mind as he grabbed the forgetfulness potion. Harry slipped out of the room a few minutes later, leaving Filch lying on the ground with no memory of the interrogation.

* * *

Though he had no actual memory of the event, Filch had obviously known that something had happened when he woke up in a deserted classroom. Looking back, Harry realized that he really should have done a better job of covering up his actions. The normally unpleasant caretaker was in an even worse mood than usual after that. However, this turned out to be a good thing for Harry, for a few days later, he heard the Weasley twins discussing a prank as they left the Quidditch locker room. From what Harry heard, they intended to sneak out at night and get some manner of revenge on Filch for a punishment they had been given the previous day.

And so, Harry was waiting in the common room under his invisibility cloak when his targets crept down the stairs. Not wanting to risk the possibility that they could see him on the map even through the cloak, he quickly stunned both before either had time to react.

As he pulled out the truth serum, he stopped to wonder if perhaps he was getting a little too comfortable using a restricted potion without any sort of oversight. He shrugged. _Needs must, and all that_, he thought as he squeezed three drops into the mouth of the twin who had been walking in front.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Frederick Weasley," the red-haired boy replied.

"Did you take a map from Filch's office?"

"Yes."

"Did you figure out how to use the map?" the younger boy asked.

"Yes."

"Where is the map now?"

"In my right pocket," came the reply.

Harry resisted the urge to shout in triumph. Instead, he rolled the boy onto his side, then grabbed the plain-looking parchment.

His mother's notes on the map, written while she was trying to recreate it for use during the war, had included the passwords to activate or deactivate it. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," Harry recited softly as he pressed his wand to the parchment.

Sure enough, lines began to spread, quickly forming words. Three of the names written were familiar. But it was the fourth that caught Harry's attention. "Prongs," he whispered.

However, clues about his father's animagus form could wait until after he had finished his task for the night. He glanced down at the unconscious twins, then over at the door. Putting the invisibility cloak back on, he opened the portrait door and checked. Fortunately, the Fat Lady was nowhere to be seen, most likely visiting a friend, as she frequently did at night.

Propping the door open, Harry dragged the two boys out, then placed them in the hall. He dumped a vial of forgetfulness potion down each of their throats, then, grinning just a little maliciously, reached for some more potions.

Maybe he hadn't fully forgiven them for shunning him for months last year.

* * *

There was quite a commotion the next day when Fred and George were discovered in the hall with bright green hair, donkey ears, elephant noses, and silver skin. Unfortunately for them, neither boy remembered what had happened, and were forced to assume that they had been captured and obliviated during their prank, most likely by some Slytherins, judging by their new color scheme.

Harry, of course, played along with the rest of the house in expressing sympathy and outrage, very carefully keeping the smirk off his face when he thought of the map he had acquired.


	14. Chapter 13: Ambushers Ambushed

Chapter 13: Ambushers Ambushed

When Justin Finch-Fletchley was found beaten in a deserted corridor on the second floor, the news that he had been assaulted spread quickly. Most of the students saw this as yet another attack in the Heir's campaign of violence against the muggle-born students. Harry, however, knew that this was the beginning of the end for whoever was behind this brutality.

A quick check on the omnioculars he had carefully positioned to record the Marauder's Map revealed that Justin had been attacked by a group of seven boys. Unfortunately, the only names Harry recognized were Draco Malfoy and Marcus Flint, but carefully examining the map had shown that the other five attackers were Slytherins as well. Unfortunately, without revealing the existence of the map (which he was very hesitant to do) Harry really didn't have any proof of the culprits' identities. Which is why he was standing outside of the entrance to the Slytherin common room, carefully inspecting the map to ensure that nobody would see him enter his enemies' dormitory.

Somehow, the map was tied into the wards, or had monitoring charms, or something else that Harry hadn't thought of, which ensured that the map always had the correct passwords for hidden doorways and secret passages, including the entrance to each dorm.

"Noble Ancestry," Harry said softly, and the hidden stone door slid open.

The Slytherin common room was nowhere near as roomy and majestic as the Gryffindor common room. Instead, the walls were made of rough stone, and lamps flickering with a soft greenish glow hung from the low ceiling. At the far end of the room, the craftsmanship appeared to be of higher quality, with an elaborate mantelpiece made from exquisitely carved marble dominating the end wall.

Unlike the Gryffindor dormitories, which had only one staircase for each gender leading to the actual rooms, each side of the Slytherin common room had seven empty doorways filled with an inky blackness that made Harry shiver. Checking on the map showed that the boys were on the left, the girls on the right. Harry made his way over to the arched entrance for the second-year boys, listening carefully for any indication that any of them were still awake.

Donning his invisibility cloak, with the Hand of Glory held low, Harry walked down the dark hallway. It was only about 20 feet long, with a door at the end on the right. Harry slowly pushed the door open, the hinges squeaking softly, but there was no indication that the occupants had been disturbed.

Harry had already determined that dragging Malfoy out to the common room to be interrogated would be more likely to wake the other boys than quietly conducting the questioning in the dormitory, so he quickly administered the needed dose of veritaserum and asked his questions. Unfortunately, while Malfoy confirmed that he was one of the people responsible for the attacks, he didn't know when the next one was planned. Harry would have to interrogate the real leader, Philip Greengrass, if he wanted that information.

After giving Malfoy a dose of forgetfulness potion (and making a mental note to brew more soon, as he had just a few vials left) Harry went back to the common room, but paused before entering the hallway which led to the seventh-year boys' room. It was possible, he supposed, that the upper level Slytherins were skilled enough to apply some additional wards to their rooms. However, he didn't see any other way that he could interrogate Greengrass, which was a crucial part of his plan. He'd just have to take the risk.

Luck was on his side, as he crept into the room without being detected. Stunning his target, he quickly dosed the older boy and then woke him. Twenty minutes later, Harry exited the Slytherin common room with all the information he needed.

* * *

"They intend to attack a fourth-year Ravenclaw named Hope Callow next Monday," Harry reported to Peter. "She has a habit of studying in the library for an hour or two after dinner most nights. Her route back to Ravenclaw tower goes through several areas without any portraits, and not much foot traffic – perfect conditions to be attacked."

"So what do you plan to do about it?" the blond man asked.

"I'll find some excuse to be there, and discover them attacking her, then fight back, making enough noise to draw attention. Malfoy confirmed that they all wear masks, but as long as I stun a few of them so they can be caught and identified, it shouldn't be tough to force them to reveal any of their fellow conspirators that escaped. And maybe I'll be able to take them all down, with the element of surprise."

Peter nodded thoughtfully. "And how will you explain being there in the first place?" he inquired.

Harry thought for a minute. "I can leave a book or something in the library, then find some reason to be in the Ravenclaw tower, or at least nearby. Then, at the appropriate time, I 'remember' that I need to go back and grab my book, and happen to take the right path to see the attack."

"That could work," the older man said slowly. "The biggest questions are what excuse you will use for waiting around the tower, and how will you know the time to leave?"

"I can use the map to know when it's time, but I'm not sure about the excuse. Maybe I'll be talking with Luna Lovegood? She's the only Ravenclaw I'm close with," the dark-haired boy finished.

"Why not just be waiting in the Gryffindor tower?"

Harry shook his head. "I thought about that, but it wouldn't work. Their planned ambush spot is down one of the side corridors opposite the east staircase. Nobody really goes down that way except for the Ravenclaws, or people taking divination. I have no reason to be there unless I was visiting a Ravenclaw."

"If you are talking with another student, how will you be able to keep an eye on the map to know when you need to leave?" Peter asked.

Harry opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again without saying anything, thinking intently. "That's a good point," he admitted. "I don't really have an answer for that."

"I could watch the map, and somehow send you a signal when the time is right," Peter suggested.

"That's a good plan," Harry agreed. "What sort of signal?"

"I don't know right now," Peter replied with a shrug. "It's not too difficult to make something that would beep softly or heat up when I press a button. That would probably work well enough." He stopped for a moment, a considering look on his face. "On Thursday, I'm planning on meeting that technomancer I talked to you about. I can see if he can come up with something better. It could be a good test to see if he's got the skills we need."

After a bit of consideration, Harry nodded. "I'd like to meet him as well. See if he could come to the Three Broomsticks sometime on Saturday."

"Any time in particular?" Peter asked.

"I can slip out whenever," Harry replied, shaking his head.

"Okay. Sounds like a plan," Peter said as they exited the office and made their way to the vanishing cabinets.

* * *

One of the things Harry had learned from interrogating Malfoy was that the Slytherins behind the attacks had also used confundus charms on a few students to spread rumors that Harry was the one responsible. It helped to explain why they were so willing to believe the worst of him, but it was still an exercise in patience as he went about his daily schedule, ignoring the suspicious looks that some of the students were still shooting him.

Still, the days passed quickly, and Saturday soon arrived. Even while wearing his invisibility cloak, he was able to fly very quickly, and soon he was dismounting on the small hill where Peter was waiting.

The Three Broomsticks was on the south side of town, near Hogwarts, which made it fairly easy for Harry to sneak in without being noticed by following closely behind his older friend. Once they were in the private room Peter had rented, Harry took off the invisibility cloak and settled into one of the comfortable chairs.

"Any problems sneaking away?" Peter asked. Harry got the impression that this was more to pass the time than out of any real concern.

"No, nobody saw me or anything. I'm not sure that my friends believed my excuse, but they didn't press the issue, so it's fine. As long as nothing happens while I'm gone, there shouldn't be a problem," he responded.

There was a brief, somewhat awkward pause. Just as Harry was about to open his mouth to ask how Peter's family was doing, there came a knock on the door.

Double-checking to ensure that Harry was out of sight from the main tavern, Peter opened the door, and welcomed their guest inside.

Harry took a moment to study the newcomer. He was a bit shorter than Peter, but quite a bit heavier, with a rather stocky build, though Harry wouldn't go so far as to say fat, necessarily. Just a bit pudgy. He had dark brown hair and hazel eyes, but what really stood out to the Gryffindor was the mischievous smile, almost more of a smirk, on the man's face. It was an expression Harry had seen frequently, usually whenever Fred and George were discussing a new prank.

"Chad meet Harry Potter," Peter introduced. "And Harry, this is the technomancer I told you about, Chad Pfluegerman."

"Pleased to meet you, Harry," the man said, holding his hand out.

Harry shook his hand firmly. "And it's nice to meet you, Chad."

"Excellent, I don't have to go into my usual thing about not calling me Mister Pfluegerman," Chad commented with a smile.

"It is an interesting name," Peter observed. "Where does it come from?"

Chad shrugged. "I really have no idea. We're the only family with that name I've ever heard of. Not surprisingly, we all just go by our first names and pretend that we don't have a last name."

"Let's sit down, so we can be a bit more comfortable while we talk," Harry suggested, gesturing to the padded chairs.

After they were seated, Harry turned back to Chad. "Now, I know that you and Peter have talked about some of this stuff, but since we're just meeting, can you tell me a little bit about yourself?"

"Well, as Peter mentioned, I am a technomancer. As such, in school I focused mainly on runes, arithmancy and enchanting. I graduated a little over four years ago, and have spent the time since traveling around the world, exploring cool stuff."

"Cool stuff meaning, what, exactly?" Harry asked.

"Mostly enchanted objects or places from long ago. While people generally assume that technomancy is a relatively new field, the fact is that a great deal of the ancient enchantments still functioning today actually could be considered technomancy. That sort of stuff is of interest to me, so I've been checking it out."

"Now, that's something that I've been wondering about," Peter confessed. "What exactly is technomancy? I was originally under the impression that it was simply making technology work with magic, but from our discussions earlier, that doesn't seem to be correct."

Chad thought for a moment. "Are you both familiar with computers?" he asked. When they both nodded, he continued. "Computers are incredibly advanced, very complex. And yet, it boils down to something very simple. Every computer program in the world is made up of ones and zeroes. Programmers combine these ones and zeroes, called bits, in specific ways to fulfill a specific purpose, which requires at a minimum thousands, or even millions or billions of bits."

He paused for a moment. "Traditional enchanting uses a few very powerful, complicated spells to fulfill the objectives. Technomancy takes the other route. Like a computer, it uses a startling number of very simple spells, usually with a complex algorithm controlling when different spells are active, and at what levels. This gives you more options with one single device, and better control with exactly how the enchantment operates."

"So, are you saying technomancy is better than traditional enchanting?" Harry pressed.

Chad frowned for a moment in consideration. "Overall, neither method is better or worse. It depends on what you're trying to enchant, and the design parameters that you are working to fulfill."

Harry nodded. "I can see that. And I can see how someone with your skills could be helpful for our team. Now, I don't want to be overly rude or abrupt, but I can't stay too long without anyone getting suspicious. So, I think we should get down to business. Has Peter told you what we're doing, and what we'd like from you?"

"As I understand it, you have a vague goal of fighting back against the corruption in your ministry, and possibly challenging some of the existing monopolies that many of the older families have, with the long-term objective of preparing to fight against terrorists like the Death Eaters from the Blood War a decade ago. What he hasn't told me, that I am rather curious about, is why you think that you will be facing these terrorists."

"Let's just say that we have some evidence that Voldemort isn't as dead as most people believe," Harry said, watching carefully for the other man's reaction.

If Harry was hoping for some visible sign of shock or fear, he was disappointed. "I see. That makes sense, I guess. You would be one of his first targets if he ever came back, and it's not like your ministry was particularly effective last time. It's only logical that you would want to prepare now, rather than being caught with your pants down," Chad responded thoughtfully.

Ignoring the man's unusual imagery, Harry pressed on. "And does that idea concern you?" he asked.

Chad shrugged. "It concerns me in the sense of, the world would be a worse place with Nazi-style mass-murderers running around, but if you're asking if I'm afraid of the danger, then, not particularly. I'm certainly not a frontline fighter, but I'm fine with helping you design stuff for a while, and if I ever feel it does get too dangerous, I can go back home and wait for things to calm down. But, I think with proper planning and preparation, it shouldn't be too much of a challenge."

"Let's hope," Peter said softly.

"And you wouldn't have any problem going up against the current ministry?" Harry continued.

At this, Chad smiled broadly. "I'm an American! Fighting back against corrupt British regimes is what we do!"

"Hopefully we won't have to end up declaring independence," Peter said with a chuckle. "Just exposing the corruption should be enough."

"Well, if you want to take the boring route, that's fine too," Chad replied easily.

"Alright, I'll let you and Peter work out specifics of how much we pay you, expectations of how many hours you work, and so forth. For now, we have a project we'd like you to work on, and for you to put a bit of a rush on it, if possible," Harry said.

He explained briefly the situation with the Slytherin attacks, even showing off the Marauder's Map, and outlined the plan he and Peter had come up with.

"So, you want a way for us to stay in real-time communication without people noticing, so that you can stay informed on their movements without having to be looking at the map," Chad summarized.

"Precisely," Harry replied.

"Easily done," the stocky man said. "Can I see your glasses for a moment, please?"

A little confused, Harry handed his glasses over. Chad studied the frame for a moment, then pulled out his wand and cast a spell on the rubbery part of the leg that went over his right ear. "Now, without anything to anchor this, the spell will only last for about four or five days, but that should be enough for right now. If you want, we can work out a more permanent solution later."

"And what is it that spell?" Peter asked curiously.

"Receiving end for a targeted data charm. When I combine it with a listening charm cast on something else, for example, this table," he said, as he tapped his wand against the wood, "the two are linked so that Harry can hear whatever is said in the area around it." He handed the glasses back to Harry, who put them on eagerly. A quick silencing charm to cut Harry off from normal sounds proved that Chad's spells worked as promised. Harry could hear the men when they spoke near the table, but when they moved away, it was just silence.

"I assume that it would be a simple matter of making it so that we could hear Harry as well," Peter suggested.

"Very simple," Chad replied. "But before we get too far into this, we should find something besides this table to enchant."

"What about the map," Harry suggested.

Chad shook his head with a little grimace. "Not a good idea to put additional enchantments on something that's already got some magic to it. Spells can combine and conflict, sometimes in dangerous ways."

"Just a regular piece of paper, then?" Peter suggested.

"That would work," Chad responded with a nod.

Peter, who had brought a small notebook, tore a sheet out and handed it over to the American. Chad folded it carefully in half, then opened it once more and cast a few spells. "Can I see your glasses again?" he requested as he looked up at Harry.

Harry handed the glasses over, and Chad had the spells finished in just a few seconds.

"Alright," the man said as he gave the glasses back to Harry. "We should be ready here. We'll be able to hear everything Harry says, and he'll be able to hear everything said by someone within about five feet of this piece of paper, but both spells are only active when the paper is unfolded. As long as it is folded, the spells are inactive, so he won't have to worry about being distracted by random sounds throughout the day. As I said before, without anything to anchor them, these spells will only last until Wednesday or Thursday, but that should be long enough."

"That was a lot quicker and easier than I expected," Harry confessed.

"That's why you're hiring me," Chad responded cheerfully.

"I'm going to head back to Hogwarts," Harry said. "You two can discuss the specifics of Chad's employment. Give me about twenty minutes, then unfold the paper and let's test it again, just to make sure that the Hogwarts wards don't interfere or anything."

Both men nodded, and Harry opened the small window. Carefully pulling the cloak on and ensuring that he was fully covered as he mounted his broom, Harry flew out the window and made a quick turn, rising high to fly over the trees as he sped back to the school.

* * *

Monday morning arrived, and Harry was filled with a curious mix of apprehension and anticipation that he typically associated with Quidditch games. He forced himself to remain calm as he went through his normal routine. According to Greengrass, the attack would be shortly before curfew, when their victim usually left the library to return to Ravenclaw tower.

Classes blurred together, as Harry was focused more on his mission for that evening. Fortunately, none of the professors seemed to notice his lack of attention. Finally, classes were over, dinner was eaten, and his charms textbook was carefully left in the library so he would have an excuse to go get it at the appropriate time. Harry made his way carefully to Ravenclaw tower, where he had arranged to meet Luna.

"Hello, Harry Potter," the odd, yet pleasant girl said as he turned the corner.

"Hello, Luna," he responded with a smile. "Thanks for meeting with me."

"It's not a problem. I'm glad to help you out. It's like having friends," she replied cheerfully.

Harry ignored the small twinge in his gut at her words. "Well, we are friends," he said, ignoring the voice in the back of his head that pointed out he was only meeting with her to have an excuse for stopping the attack.

Luna studied him for a moment, her face surprisingly shrewd, before smiling softly again. "That's nice. I don't have much experience having friends," she said in her typically blunt manner. "Let me know when you need to leave. I know that you have a very tight schedule to keep."

It took some effort, but Harry forced himself to keep smiling, even as he wondered how Luna knew that. At times, it was a little creepy how the normally unfocused girl knew things without being told. "So, what's new with you? We haven't really talked for a few months," he began lamely.

"Hmm, not a lot has changed," Luna said, tapping her lips thoughtfully. "If we're going to be discussing things, would it make more sense to go into the common room? That way there would be more people watching us," she commented.

Harry nodded slowly, wondering, again, how she knew that he would like more witnesses. Luna turned and walked down the hall and up the spiral staircase that led to Ravenclaw tower. Harry had been here before when he was trying to identify the heir, but he hadn't actually entered the tower, which is why he was surprised when, instead of a password, Luna knocked on the door with the heavy bronze knocker. He was even more surprised when the eagle-shaped knocker opened its beak.

"How far can a man walk into a forest?" a soft, musical voice asked.

"Half-way," Luna responded immediately. "After that, he's walking back out."

"Well reasoned," the voice replied, and the door swung open.

The Ravenclaw common room was wide and circular, with a high, domed ceiling painted with stars. Arched windows dotted the walls, providing an impressive view of the mountains surrounding the school. A number of students were seated at the tables scattered throughout the room, all of whom turned to look at him as he entered. Harry saw a few frowns, but nobody seemed to object too strenuously to his presence.

Luna led him over to a deserted table off to one side. "Here we go. People can see us, but I doubt anyone is close enough to hear us," she said, before focusing more intently on Harry. "So, what should we talk about?"

"Well, you're right that I might have to leave suddenly, but I really would like to get to know you better. Why don't you tell me a little about yourself?" he suggested, somewhat surprised to realize that he truly meant it. He hadn't given much thought to Luna after she had helped him expose Lockhart's crimes, something which he now felt guilty about. She was, after all, a nice girl, and he felt a little ashamed that he had been, for all intents and purposes, using her for her family's magazine.

For her part, Luna didn't seem to be bothered by Harry's ulterior motives. Instead, she cheerfully launched into an explanation of the joys of magizoology, recounting the many trips and expeditions she and her father had undertaken in their quest to discover new magical species. Harry was pleased to learn that the December issue they had printed about Lockhart had, indeed, sold well enough that the father-daughter pair were now planning an expedition to Sweden to look for one of their most elusive creatures, the Crumple-Horned Snorcack.

However, Harry was a bit confused when his friend informed him of the feature article in the upcoming edition.

"This guy said he met an actual alien?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes, that is what he said," Luna responded with a nod. "He doesn't remember all of the details with perfect clarity, however, due to the extreme elevation where the encounter took place."

Harry frowned. "Didn't you say that he was at the ocean? That's not an extreme elevation."

Luna looked thoughtful. "That is strange. Perhaps some oceans are at a greater elevation than others? Either way, he was quite clear on that point. He said that he can't remember the event very well because he was, and I quote, 'really high'. It's understandable that the lack of oxygen at such great altitudes would cause some memory problems."

Harry struggled to keep from laughing as he realized what Luna's 'source' had really meant. "So, what was this alien doing on Earth?" he finally asked.

"He was a member of a race that had been forced to abandon their planet more than a century ago by their machine servants who had gained sentience. They're looking for a new planet to settle on, but for whatever reason, Earth isn't suitable."

"I suppose that's good for us," Harry said. "It wouldn't be too fun if a bunch of aliens decided to invade our planet."

"You may be right. Though it would be fun to meet them," the blonde girl said in a wistful voice. Then, she leaned forward, glancing around furtively as she continued. "But, there is some evidence that the aliens already have a connection to Earth," she whispered. "Our informant distinctly remembers the alien saying that it was Korean. Obviously, the Eastern Asian countries have been in contact with extraterrestrials for some time. It could explain their advanced technology. _The Quibbler_ is going to demand a thorough investigation into their extraterrestrial activities, and the impact it may have on the rest of us."

Not quite sure how to respond, Harry just went with his default 'smile and nod', and, soon enough, they found a slightly less confusing topic of conversation.

* * *

The time passed quickly, and Harry was startled when he heard Chad's voice informing him that Hope Callow had just left the library, and that Draco Malfoy and Roderick Gibbon were following her.

"I'm sorry Luna, but I need to go. I just remembered that I left my charms book in the library, and I need to get it before curfew," he said apologetically.

"Okay," the girl responded. "Good luck. I hope everything goes well for you," she added.

Harry walked quickly out of the common room, and down the long staircase. He had just reached the bottom when Peter's voice hissed, "They've already surrounded her in the fourth floor, east side corridor."

Harry stopped, startled, then began racing through the halls. _That wasn't the plan_, he thought frantically. Greengrass had said that they planned to attack her one floor up, quite a bit closer to Ravenclaw Tower. Apparently, the Slytherins had seen a better opportunity, and taken it. Harry could only hope that he got there quickly enough.

Fortunately, the hallways were still deserted, so none of the students noticed him sprinting at full speed, wand at the ready. Following Peter's instructions, Harry dashed down a side corridor and down another set of stairs, taking them three at a time in his haste. He turned the corner, and found a scene that made his blood run cold.

All seven of the Slytherins were gathered around the still form of whom he could only assume was Hope Callow, laughing as one of them kicked the girl in the stomach. Harry could see some blood pooling on the floor around the girl. Not bothering to give any warning, he immediately started casting as he rushed toward them.

Two of the attackers fell instantly to his stunners, and a third was blasted back more than a dozen feet by a knockback jinx. Caught off guard, the remaining Slytherins fumbled for their wands, allowing Harry to cast a few more spells before having to shield against the oncoming spellfire. A tall boy that Harry thought was Greengrass fell to a bone-breaker hex, clutching his leg in agony, while the shortest boy (probably Malfoy) narrowly dodged a banishing charm.

With four people now attacking him, Harry knew the odds were against him. Waiting for a slight lull in enemy spells, he dodged to one side, dropping the shield as he went. Putting everything he had into it, Harry sent a confundus charm at the largest boy still standing, making him think that he was surrounded by Gryffindors who were attacking him. Harry pressed himself up against the wall, quickly casting another shield charm to protect from the approaching spells as the Slytherin he had cursed slowly shook his head, then turned his attention back to the fight in progress.

The confundus charm did its work well. With a cry of rage, the massive boy threw himself at the smaller Slytherin next to him, foregoing his wand to instead pummel the boy in the face. Malfoy and the other remaining attacker turned to stare in shock, giving Harry the opportunity to stun them both before focusing on the fistfight.

The cursed boy was still attacking his comrade, which Harry felt was poetic justice at its finest. He was almost reluctant, therefore, to stun the two boys, but he knew that getting help for their victim was the most important thing right now.

He ran over and quickly examined the unconscious girl. She was bleeding quite severely from her nose, and looked to have a number of other injuries on her body as well. Harry couldn't help but kick himself mentally. He'd been so sure that he had things under control, and now an innocent girl was the one paying the price. He stunned each of the Slytherins once more just to ensure that they stayed down, then began sprinting toward the hospital wing to get help.


	15. Chapter 14: Secrets Revealed

Chapter 14: Secrets Revealed

"That'll take Slytherin out of the running for the cup this year," Ron Weasley crowed in the common room a few hours later.

Not surprisingly, it was Hermione who reacted first. "Seriously? A young woman was brutally beaten and your concern is how many points her assailants lost? That's outrageous."

"What's outrageous is that they're still in Hogwarts," Neville replied. "Losing some house points and getting a few weeks of detention isn't enough. They should have been expelled."

"Of course they're not going to be expelled. They're Slytherins from rich, politically connected families," Harry remarked cynically. "I'm just surprised I wasn't punished this time."

"The teachers wouldn't punish you for defending someone," Hermione retorted hotly.

"And yet, McGonagall had no problem punishing me for defending myself," Harry countered just as emphatically.

"If you two start arguing about this, you'll never stop," Neville quickly interjected. "Can we focus on the important thing here? Specifically, the woefully inadequate punishment for the Slytherins."

Harry turned to look at his friend closely. "Woefully inadequate? That's pretty fancy language."

Neville blushed, and looked away. "My Gran says that I need to work on being more eloquent when I speak. House Longbottom has a seat on the Wizengamot, and lately she's been bugging me that I need to begin preparing more."

"I, for one, think it's fantastic that Neville has chosen to expand his vocabulary," Hermione said primly.

"How Longbottom talks isn't important," Ron insisted. "What's important is that Slytherin lost so many points that they'll never manage to recover. The House Cup will be ours, as it should have been last year."

"Slytherin house lost 200 points, and each one will have to serve four weeks of detention," Harry recited flatly. "If we're looking at just the points, as you seem to want to do, then the seven of them attacked five students, meaning that they lost about six points per person per attack. And detention is supposed to last for no more than two hours, and only on school days. That means that four weeks of detention is forty hours, which means that the punishment for viciously beating up another student is six house points and eight hours of detention. So yes, Ron, Slytherin will probably lose the house cup. But the punishment was still too light."

"And since the detention is with Snape, you know they aren't going to get a real punishment," Neville added darkly. "That just seems to be the way things work around here. A bunch of Slytherins attack people. Nobody does anything until Harry solves the problem, then they get a slap on the wrist instead of a real punishment."

Harry was a bit surprised at the anger in the blond boy's voice, but didn't feel it was right to inquire. "I wonder if we could do something about that," he said thoughtfully.

"Like what?" Hermione asked, her voice betraying just a hint of nervousness.

"I don't know," Harry responded with a shrug. "The Quibbler did a good job with Lockhart. Maybe we could talk to Luna about this, see if they would be interested."

"For something with verifiable facts like this, we could go to the Daily Prophet," Hermione suggested.

Neville shook his head. "My Gran always says that the Prophet is in Malfoy's pocket. I don't know if he owns it or not, but he's got a lot of influence there."

"Well, we have to do something!" Hermione explained.

"Let's actually hold off for now," Harry said, as a plan began to take shape in his mind. "We should wait until we know more about their detention. If it isn't anything serious, then we'll have a much stronger argument to call for further punishment."

* * *

_Peter was right. Having an enchanter on call is a very useful thing,_ Harry thought as he stole quietly down the hallway. Technically, curfew wasn't for another thirty minutes, but he still didn't want to be seen. After all, he didn't have any real reason for being down near the potions room. At least, not a reason that he would admit to.

Given Snape's background (and the fact that Fred and George had never successfully managed to prank the unpleasant teacher) Harry was certain that the door would be warded. Fortunately, Chad had come through for him.

Harry pulled a small cube, about an inch on each side, out of his pocket and tapped the symbol on one side. The opposite face slid open, and Harry pulled a two-foot-long prism out of the expanded space. Another tap of the wand, and he had a box two feet wide and five feet long, but less than a quarter of an inch thick. At least, that was the thickness if one were to measure from the outside. The top of the box was missing for two feet on either end, revealing that the box was much deeper on the inside.

The boy carefully slid the contraption under the door, making sure that the line indicating the middle was positioned about on the inside edge of the door. It shouldn't make a difference, but Chad had said that would maximize the effectiveness of the concealing runes on the inside.

Harry hopped down into the collapsible tunnel, subconsciously holding his breath as he passed through the area where the door was, then climbed out on the other side. Of course, a tunnel like this wouldn't be of any use if Snape had area wards on the potions lab, but given the incredible complexity involved in constantly activating and deactivating such wards, Harry felt it unlikely Snape had taken such precautions.

"Made it into the lab, no problems so far," Harry reported, though it was quite unnecessary. Peter, who was using the Marauder's Map to provide oversight, would obviously be aware of this already.

"All clear. Snape isn't moving. It looks like you have gone undetected," the older man reported.

"Excellent. Looks like the tunnel works just like Chad said."

"I'll be sure to pass along your compliments," Peter said.

"For the tunnel and the omnioculars," came the quick reply.

Chad had done especially good work there. Rather than run the risk of having the omnioculars visible in the room, Chad had created small monitors that fed directly into the memory of the main unit, acting as a sort of a detachable lens. With each monitor the size of a coin, it was unlikely that the Potions professor would notice if Harry positioned them in some of the corners. In order to remain undetected, the signal between the monitor and the omniocular it was paired to was far too weak to penetrate the magically infused stone walls, meaning that the actual devices had to be hidden in the potions classroom as well, but that was not an insurmountable obstacle.

Harry studied the room for a few minutes, looking for a spot that Snape wouldn't think to check. Finally, he found what he was looking for. While the cabinets holding the potions were likely locked and warded, they had small, round legs that lifted them off the ground a few inches. By Harry's estimate, it was likely just enough to slip the omnioculars underneath.

Pulling the devices in question out of his book bag, Harry found that he had been correct. He slipped the four omnioculars under the cabinets, far enough back that they couldn't be seen unless one were to bend down and look with a light. The monitors he carefully placed in each of the corners of the room near the ceiling, making sure to orient them so that they would record almost all of the classroom. The integrated sticking charm on the back made this an easy task.

After taking a moment to double-check his work and ensure that he hadn't left any traces behind, Harry climbed back through the tunnel and began to make his way up to Gryffindor Tower. A few times, he had to pause, or make a detour to avoid anyone else until he got far enough away from "Slytherin Territory" to avoid suspicion.

As he drew near to the tower, Harry had already decided the mission was over, and had turned his thoughts back to his normal activities, which is why it was such a shock when Peter suddenly cut in, his voice sounding almost frantic.

"Stop," Peter ordered curtly. "According to the map, there's nobody near you. Are there any portraits? Can anyone or any _thing_ hear you?"

Harry glanced around. "I think I'm good. But I could go to one of the deserted classrooms just to make sure."

"Do it," came the immediate reply.

Still very confused, and now growing worried, Harry complied quickly.

He shut the door quietly and scanned the room to ensure that there were no portraits. "I think we're good here, Peter. What's going on?"

"Either the map is malfunctioning, or something is very wrong. According to this, Peter Pettigrew is in the second-year boys' room in Gryffindor Tower," Peter responded, his voice surprisingly level.

"_Peter Pettigrew?" _Harry echoed incredulously. "Isn't he supposed to be dead?"

"Very, very dead," Peter replied. "Which is why I'm very, very confused. With that exception, the map seems to be working perfectly. Which leads me to suspect that a dead man is, in fact, waiting for you in your dormitory."

A million questions flew through Harry's mind, but he knew that Peter wouldn't have any more answers. At least, not Peter Wilson. Peter Pettigrew, on the other hand…

"Maybe I should talk with him," Harry suggested.

"That's odd," Peter commented.

Now Harry was confused. "Odd that I want to talk with him?"

"Sorry, I wasn't talking to you, I was paying attention to the map. What's odd is that Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas and Ron Weasley just walked in, and don't seem to have reacted to finding a strange man in their bedroom." There was a brief pause. "And now, Ron Weasley seems to be standing right next to him. And they're moving at the exact same time and pace." There was another pause, before Peter finally continued, his voice somewhat hesitant. "I'd almost think that one of them was carrying the other."

"Pettigrew was an animagus, probably a rat or a mouse," Harry whispered in shock as the pieces came together. "Weasley has a pet rat he calls Scabbers."

"Wait, you're saying that Peter Pettigrew is pretending to be an actual rat? How long has Weasley had him?"

"At least the whole time he's been at Hogwarts. Don't know about before that," Harry said, still stunned.

There was a soft noise that Harry recognized as Peter clicking his tongue, something his friend did unconsciously when deep in thought.

"With everything we've learned about what happened when your parents died, I'm starting to get a very bad feeling about this. I can't think of any legitimate reason that someone would pretend to be a rat for more than a year. Especially not a pet for a twelve-year-old boy."

"Is there any way to force him to turn back into a human?" Harry asked. "I've got veritaserum. We could interrogate him."

"Yes, there are a few ways to disrupt the spell. I can't imagine that they're pleasant for the person they're used on, but they should work," Peter replied. "Granted, I've never actually done it on a real animagus, but I know the theory."

"I'll stun him tonight after everyone else is asleep. When we revive him, we'll give him the chance to turn back. If he doesn't, we'll use your method," Harry said. "That way, if there is some valid reason that he's pretending to be a rat, we haven't accidentally given him brain damage or something."

* * *

As was so often the case these days, Harry waited patiently for the other boys to fall asleep. He had slipped his wand into his bed while nobody was looking so that he would be able to stun the intruder without any warning. Unfortunately, he hadn't considered that he would need to take his glasses off, which threw a minor hitch in his plan. Fortunately, it wasn't an issue. The rat was fast asleep on the pillow.

Harry put on his glasses, then carefully took aim. "Stupefy," he whispered. The bright, red spell filled the room with light momentarily, but none of the others stirred. He quickly resized the Timeland trunk, then grabbed Scabbers (or was it really Wormtail?) and clambered down into the trunk.

Timeland had been intended as a training facility, so there weren't any jail cells or anything like that, the first time that Harry had been a little disappointed in his parents' planning. Still, once Peter arrived, they shouldn't have a problem keeping the rat contained.

Thinking of Peter reminded Harry that he needed to let his friend know that he and Pettigrew were ready for the interrogation. After a few minutes of waiting for Peter to reply, Harry realized that he should have notified the man before he entered the facility with an accelerated timeflow. Still, it wasn't really worth going back now.

A few minutes later, Harry heard Peter stepping out of the vanishing cabinet. "Harry?" he called out.

"Third bedroom on the left," Harry called back.

The door opened, and Peter stepped inside with a questioning glance.

"He's on the bed," Harry said, gesturing with his head. "There aren't any cells here, so shutting the door was the best option I had, just in case he woke up sooner than expected."

Peter frowned. "That's an unfortunate thing to overlook," he commented, but it was obvious that his heart really wasn't in it. Instead, he was focused on the unconscious rat on the bed. "Do you have the veritaserum?" he asked.

Harry nodded. "Should we prepare anything more before we question him? Maybe transfigure some bars, or something?"

"Pettigrew wasn't the most athletic fellow, so I wouldn't be too worried about being physically attacked, but there's no harm in taking precautions," Peter agreed. With a flick of his wand, Pettigrew flew into a corner, followed by a blanket from the bed, which was transformed into a set of bars the full height of the room. "Let's revive him, then if he turns back voluntarily, we can go from there," he finished, a hint of menace in his voice.

When the spell to counter the effects of the stunner hit the rat, it jerked up, looked around, then began squeaking as it darted further into the corner.

"We know that's you, Pettigrew," Harry said firmly. "Turn back into a human and we can talk, otherwise we'll have to force you."

A few seconds passed, and Harry wondered if they were going to have to go with option B (as well as wondering if perhaps this was all a mistake and he was currently threatening an actual rat. He didn't think that was very likely, though). Finally, Pettigrew realized that there was no other option, and resumed his normal form.

Whether it was because of how long he had spent in rat-form, or simply how the man looked naturally, Harry had difficulty imagining a more suspicious-looking person. Perhaps it was the unpleasant gleam in his eyes. Whatever the reason, Harry found himself loathing the man entirely. It was understandable, of course. His survival, and the lengths he had gone to conceal it, suggested that Peter Pettigrew was far more involved in Harry's parents' deaths than anyone knew. One way or another, Harry was sure that the mystery of what exactly had happened would be revealed tonight.

"Ah, Harry, how wonderful to see you," the balding man said, trying (and failing) to hide his nervousness.

"You're going to be interrogated under veritaserum," Harry said coldly. "Will you cooperate, or do we have to force-feed it to you?"

If the man were still in rat form, Harry was sure that he would be squeaking in fear. Instead, Pettigrew's eyes widened, and he looked around nervously. "There's no need for that," he began, but was cut off by Harry's stunning spell.

"Can you modify that transfiguration to a chair and some rope?" he requested. "No more delays. He's obviously not innocent."

* * *

One hour later, Peter Wilson exited the room, looking somber. Harry had stormed out in a fury less than five minutes after the questioning began, when he learned that Pettigrew was the one who had deliberately set his parents up to be murdered. Since veritaserum only lasted for one hour, and it was inadvisable to dose a person a second time without a recovery period of no less than ten hours, they couldn't wait for Harry to get his emotions under control, so Peter had proceeded without him.

Harry, meanwhile, was in the large gym that he used for quidditch practice.

"Expanding your horizons?" Peter asked as he walked in.

"What?" Harry asked, confused.

Peter gestured toward the beater bat the young Gryffindor was holding. "I wasn't aware that seekers use those much."

"I wanted to hit something," Harry admitted. "Bludgers seemed like a better option than the alternative."

"Understandable," Peter replied, then paused for a minute. "So, how much do you want to know?" he finally asked.

"Just need to know the basics. I didn't misunderstand that, right? He was responsible for my parents' deaths?"

Peter nodded, still looking angry at that revelation. "Yes. And Sirius Black was innocent."

"Looks like we figured out why the trial was sealed," Harry said bitterly.

"I'm guessing that there wasn't actually a trial at all," Peter replied. "For someone with the right connections, that would probably be easier than convincing every member of the Wizengamot to go along with the conspiracy to throw an innocent person in prison."

Harry was at least a little mollified by this other possibility. It was easier to consider the malfeasance of a few people, rather than the idea that the government as a whole was so corrupt that an innocent person could find themselves in Azkaban with the full backing of the highest court in the land.

"So, how do we make sure that the truth gets out there?" he finally asked.

"This is even bigger than the Lockhart situation. We still don't know how exactly Sirius Black wound up in prison, or why. We don't know who arranged it. Without knowing that, we can't be certain of who we can trust." Peter thought for a moment, then continued almost reluctantly. "One of the people involved in Sirius Black's arrest was Cornelius Fudge."

Harry groaned. "So the Minister of Magic is going to want to keep him in prison, even if word gets out that Black is innocent."

"Perhaps especially so. Black was somehow considered to be You-Know-Who's right-hand man. During his run for office, Fudge referenced his role in capturing such a high-profile Death Eater on more than one occasion. If it turned out that he had been involved, even tangentially, in an innocent man being sent to Azkaban… that's the type of scandal that could end his whole administration. Especially since Sirius Black is a rich pureblood. The powerful people in our society are not going to like the idea that something like that can happen even to them."

A thoughtful look appeared on Peter's face, which gradually turned into a frown. "And Fudge isn't the only powerful person with a suspicious connection to Black's arrest," he added. At Harry's questioning look, he explained. "Dumbledore easily has the clout to call for a trial. But he obviously didn't."

"Maybe he didn't know?" Harry suggested, not out of a real desire to defend the professor, but simply to offer another alternative.

"Black was a member of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix. He literally risked his life on the old man's orders, so Dumbledore certainly owed it to the man to find out the truth. And Pettigrew admitted to passing on information that resulted in the deaths of several other members. I find it inconceivable that a man as intelligent as Dumbledore would not realize that a spy who had gotten a few well-known people killed had likely gotten others killed as well. Dumbledore should have arranged to interrogate Black, even if it was just to find out how many of the other members had died because of Black and if anybody else in the Order was a traitor."

"So, if Dumbledore had Black questioned, he would have found out the truth. If he didn't, then it's suspicious that he chose not to do so. Either way, the facts suggest that Dumbledore was somehow complicit in an innocent man being sent to Azkaban," Harry summarized as the understanding of the situation sunk in.

Now he _really_ wanted to hit something.

* * *

A/N – It's unclear exactly when Dumbledore became Chief Warlock. The trials in Goblet of Fire suggest that he was just a regular member at the time. But he had enough influence to get Snape cleared on his word alone. Someone with that much political power should have been able to arrange for a prisoner to be questioned, and if necessary, arrange for a trial.

Also, the bit about Harry's parents forgetting to include a holding cell of some sort is actually a bit of real life creeping in. Before I started writing, I figured out a bunch of the details, including the layout of Timeland. And guess what I forgot to put in? I decided to leave it like that because it shows that, as awesome as the Potters were, they weren't perfect, and Timeland doesn't have all the answers to Harry's problems.


	16. Chapter 15: Tell the World

Chapter 15: Tell the World

Harry's life with the Dursleys had never been pleasant. At least, not until he began dosing them with friend juice. And while he certainly wouldn't wish that sort of experience on anybody (well, maybe Snape or Malfoy, come to think of it) there were certain attributes that he developed as a result of that less than ideal childhood. A rather high level of patience was one of those attributes. While he didn't like waiting, he was certainly capable of doing so, far more than most children his age. Granted, his main point of comparison was Dudley, so that might not be saying too much, but Harry still felt it was a valid statement.

However, the days following the discovery about Pettigrew pushed that patience to its absolute limit as Harry and Peter tried to find a way to reveal the truth to the public in a manner that the corrupt elements who wanted Black in prison would be unable to suppress. Both agreed that, since they only had one chance to get this right, they needed a plan, but without knowing who could be trusted, they didn't have many options.

The Saturday after they discovered Pettigrew, Harry and Peter met in Timeland to discuss their options.

"Since Pettigrew now has no memory of our interrogation, we can turn him over to the Aurors without risk of them finding out about what we've been doing. The problem is finding someone that would be both willing and able to help us. First, and most obvious option, is Amelia Bones," Peter began.

Harry shook his head immediately. "Already thought of her, but I don't think it will work. I told her about the threat to Hogwarts, she hasn't done anything. If she's not effective enough to get backing at the ministry on the grounds of protecting the children, I don't think it likely that she'll be able to rally support for releasing someone they've been told is a vicious mass murderer."

Peter considered that for a moment. "I'm not sure that's entirely fair, given that you didn't have any real details on the threat and Hogwarts and the Ministry have a very complicated relationship, but you do have a good point." He looked back down at the paper for a moment before continuing. "Next option would be Rufus Scrimgeour."

Harry thought for a minute. The name was familiar. For several months now, Peter had been giving him updates on the results of the investigation into corruption in the Ministry, and Scrimgeour had come up. "He's the Head Auror, right?"

Peter nodded. "Head Auror, and likely to take over for Bones as Head of the DMLE whenever she retires."

"I'm not familiar enough with him to make a real decision. What would be the pros and cons of approaching him?"

A thoughtful sigh filled the room. "Pros are that he has sufficient political connections, and he is ambitious. Cons are that he is ambitious and has significant political connections."

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "You seem to have repeated yourself a bit there," he commented drily.

"His ambitions could be good or bad. Revealing a shocking scandal like that, seeing to it that justice is done… those are the kind of moves that the public just loves. He would likely be a hero to the common people, which could serve him well if he wanted to run for Minister. But, at the same time, that would mean putting himself at odds with the influential people we're going up against. I have no way of knowing which side would win out."

"So, he likely could help, but we don't know if we can trust that he would."

Peter tipped his head in acknowledgment, but said nothing, waiting for Harry.

"At least with Amelia Bones, I get the feeling that she would genuinely want to help, even if she wasn't able to. I don't think it's wise to rely on someone when we don't even know what side they will come down on."

"Okay," Peter replied before checking his notes again. "Another option would be Alastor Moody."

Harry frowned in concentration. That name sounded familiar. Finally, he remembered. "Mad-Eye Moody? The old Auror in the Order of the Phoenix?"

"That's the one," Peter agreed. "Doesn't have much in the way of political connections, for good or bad, but he is well known as one of the best Aurors in the past century. Unfortunately, now he has a bit of a reputation for paranoia, which may hurt our cause a bit."

"Still, with proof of what he's saying, that should be possible to overcome," Harry mused.

"Another possible advantage about approaching Moody is that he will likely be retiring soon, so he might not be as concerned about his career as an Auror that will be staying in the department for another decade or two," Peter added. "I am not, however, sure of how much he'd be willing to go against Dumbledore, should Dumbledore actively oppose us."

Harry shot his friend a questioning look. "You don't think he will? You were the one who said he supported Black being imprisoned without a trial."

"I'm not sure that Dumbledore will _actively_ oppose us. I still think that he would prefer Black in Azkaban for whatever reason, but Dumbledore is a very shrewd politician. It would be very risky for him to make obvious moves that could tarnish his otherwise impeccable image. It's the very example of a Pyrrhic victory. He may succeed in keeping Black imprisoned, but the potential harm to his reputation is probably of greater concern. Though I could be wrong," Peter finished.

Harry frowned as he thought. Peter's reasoning seemed valid, but Harry just had a feeling in his gut that Dumbledore would still mess it up all up, somehow. "So who do you think will be our main opposition?" he asked.

"Fudge, almost certainly," Peter replied immediately. "Both because of the potential embarrassment if anyone learned that he was involved in an innocent person being sent to Azkaban, and because he's been developing a lot of ties with Lucius Malfoy. Malfoy himself has the oldest motive in the world. If Black dies without any clear inheritor, Malfoy could probably claim the money, given that his wife, Narcissa, was born a Black. In fact, she's one of the only ones left. Narcissa's older sister Andromeda is still alive, but was kicked out of the family for marrying a muggleborn. Their daughter is an Auror trainee. The other sister, Bellatrix Lestrange, is Azkaban. I'm not sure if you remember from the trial transcripts, but she was openly proud of her allegiance to You-Know-Who."

"Does Malfoy have much support in the Wizengamot?" Harry asked, partly dreading the answer.

"More than I would like," Peter admitted. "I can't really say how much, though. And the word 'support' can mean different things. Just because a political ally tends to see eye to eye with Malfoy doesn't mean that he or she is willing to openly break the law to support him. How many people would be willing to brazenly do something like support false imprisonment to aid an associate like that, I just don't know. Of course, if he has blackmail, or some sort of financial leverage over them, it may not really matter what they want."

Harry groaned. "That's the real question that it all boils down to, isn't it? How much can we trust the Wizengamot?"

"I have no idea. It's possible that they will turn out to be the champions of justice they like to portray. Maybe not. But the more publicly we reveal the truth, the harder it would be for them to ignore it," Peter said emphatically.

"Right," Harry agreed, then took a deep breath. "Let's get back on topic. Regarding Moody, based on what I read in my mum's diary, it doesn't sound like he would follow Dumbledore in breaking the law, unless the headmaster had a truly exceptional reason. So that connection isn't really a concern. It might even be a good thing, because it means that Moody knew Black." He thought for a minute, before looking at Peter. "Who else?"

"I considered Charles Proudfoot, the Auror who was at the bar when Lockhart was there, but he doesn't really have the political connections, and we don't have any particular reason to trust him."

Harry nodded in agreement, waiting for Peter to continue.

"There's a former Auror, now Hitwizard, named Henry MacArthur I spoke to a few times during my investigation into Black. He's kind of like a runner-up to Moody in some ways. Not quite as legendary, or as old, but he's got some connections. I don't see any real advantage to approaching him, unless we wanted someone like Moody but without the connection to Dumbledore."

"No, Moody's connection with Dumbledore isn't a concern for me."

Peter cleared his throat, then continued. "That's about it. There are a number of politically connected individuals who could be useful with the right approach, but that would probably be easier for you to do after Pettigrew has been revealed."

"So, which one of those people should we approach about revealing the truth," Harry pondered.

Peter sat up straight, a curious look on his face slowly turning into a smile. "What you just said made me realize something. There's no reason for us to find that one perfect person to bring Pettigrew in. We can get them all involved. We let them know something important related to the betrayer of the Potters will be happening at a certain place and time, and then publicly interrogate him just like we did with Lockhart."

Harry frowned in confusion. "I thought we agreed we couldn't do that again. That it would be too risky of us getting caught, jeopardizing all of our future plans."

"That was my first thought, but as I think about it now, we were asking the wrong question. Instead of trying to find an alternative to public questioning like that, we should have been focused on finding a way to pull it off without getting caught," Peter countered with a mischievous grin. "And I've got some ideas on that score."

* * *

Amelia Bones groaned as she looked at the time. It was ten to six. Time for her to be leaving if she was going to make it to this mysterious event that Potter's contact had told him about. She was more than a little suspicious about this whole situation, truth be told. Just the fact that someone had managed to slip an anonymous dictaquilled letter onto the boy's pillow without anybody noticing raised a number of red flags, but the content was the more important. Of course the poor lad was going to take notice when he was contacted by someone claiming to have information about what exactly happened all those years ago and why his parents really died. And given that she had been entirely ineffective at solving the issue with Malfoy's threat against the school (she was still convinced that he was behind it, even if she didn't have any real proof), she felt that she at least owed Harry this much.

She stretched as she stood, grateful for even a temporary reprieve from the piles of paperwork that normally kept her late into the night. It was easy to lose oneself in the job, something she knew all too well after her first few years in this position. Now, she had a strict rule for herself that she leave by seven at the latest, unless there was a legitimate emergency. It still meant that she was still hear long after almost all of the regular office staff had already left, but she was used to that. And without a husband or children, it wasn't that much of an imposition.

Taking care to lock her office, she walked to the elevator that would take her to the lobby. Whatever was happening tonight in the Leaky Cauldron would be interesting, no doubt about it.

* * *

Nymphadora Tonks (though she would probably curse you ten ways to Sunday if you ever called her that) sat quietly in the corner, nursing her Firewhisky. Of course, none of the other occupants of the room had any idea that it was really her. _One of the perks of being a metamorphmagus,_ she thought with a grin. Given that her typical form was a brash young woman with brightly colored hair, most people failed to remember that with just a thought, she could be anyone. Years of practice from a young age, honed by a particularly successful mischievous streak during Hogwarts, had developed her skills to the point that she could blend in just about anywhere without others noticing anything odd about her.

As always, that thought brought a bit of a scowl to her face. A skill like that should be invaluable to an Auror, but most of the others seemed dismissive of her abilities. 'That's what Polyjuice is for, girl' she had heard on more than one occasion. It frustrated her how often people thought that a few changes on the surface was all that it took to pull the wool over other people's eyes. Especially since everybody knew that Polyjuice existed, and criminals in particular were on the lookout for it. Still, most people had stopped thinking of her as a glorified sex toy after one very effective demonstration against a particular idiot who voiced his thoughts a little too loudly where she could hear. One month's suspension was a small price to pay.

Tonks lifted the glass to her mouth, and took another swallow, using the movement to cover a quick inspection of the room. Nothing suspicious yet, but that didn't mean anything. There was still time to go.

She froze as she felt a slight point of pressure on the back of her neck, then swallowed deeply as she realized that someone had snuck up on her and now had her at wandpoint. She almost sighed in relief when a familiar voice growled in her ear.

"Just because you don't look like normal doesn't mean that people can't figure you out, Trainee."

"If you wanted to say hi, Mad-Eye, you could have just had a seat. No reason to try to scare me," she retorted with as much heat as she could muster while still whispering to avoid drawing attention.

"Not trying. Succeeding," the old Auror replied, now sounding like he was smiling just a bit.

Tonks turned her head just enough to see that, as she had suspected, the eccentric man was wearing an invisibility cloak. "So what are you doing here?" she asked.

"Same as you, I imagine. Got word that something was going to happen – something significant, relating to a secret Death Eater that's been on the run for the past decade. Something like that, it pays to get firsthand knowledge."

Tonks frowned. "That's not what I heard. My mum received a letter claiming to have information about Sirius Black proving he's innocent, which would be revealed tonight. She never believed that he did it, but something so unexpected like that is a little suspicious, so I volunteered to come scope things out.

A loud noise in one corner drew her attention, and when she turned back to her drink, Mad-Eye was sitting at the table next to her, perfectly visible. She couldn't help but feel a little jealous of how smooth he made the transition. It was highly doubtful that anyone else in the room knew he had been lurking around under the cloak.

Moody looked at her intently. "Black innocent, you say?" Tonks wasn't sure whether Moody was actually talking to her, or merely thinking out loud, but she nodded anyway. "Now, how would that happen?" the man said softly.

Tonks wasn't quite sure how to respond, but fortunately, the next person to enter the room was more than enough of a distraction. "They contacted the Daily Prophet as well," she commented.

Moody scowled. "Bunch of flea-bitten gossip mongers that call themselves journalists. And, of course, they sent the worst of the lot." A sound of derision escaped his throat. "Britain hasn't had a real newspaper since the war."

While Tonks wasn't sure she quite agreed with her companion, it was certainly true that Rita Skeeter did have that reputation. Still, if it turned out that Sirius really was innocent, then she wouldn't turn away any help in spreading the word.

"So, why are you sitting here with me, anyway? You're kind of blowing my cover here, y'know?" she asked.

Moody scoffed. "Your cover was blown long before I sat down. Scrimgeour's got this whole building under surveillance. Don't know who made the mistake of telling him, but if what you said about Black really is true, it makes sense that he's so concerned. That once can always smell a change in the political winds. And a scandal like that would be a very big change."

There was something ominous about how he said that, but Tonks tried to ignore it.

At five to six, Amelia Bones flooed in, causing a general wave of surprise and silence as people stared at the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. While not nearly as unapproachable as the Minister or Chief Warlock, she certainly wasn't a normal fixture in places like this. A few people watched her carefully, but it seemed that she was 'off the clock' so to speak, and normal conversation returned momentarily.

It was clear to see as the minutes ticked by that there was a general feeling of anticipation shared by about half of the room, while the others seemed to have no idea what had their fellows so worked up. Tonks checked her watch, which read 6:02. "Do you think they're late, or just a no-show?" she asked quietly.

Any response from Moody was cut off by a loud voice that filled the room. Tonks turned her eyes to the ceiling, where a bright red howler had gone unnoticed.

"Thank you all for attending tonight to learn the truth of what really happened the night the Potters were attacked. Unfortunately, due to the overenthusiastic surveillance by a few Aurors, we have had to find an alternative venue. For anyone interested, please make your way to the alley between Wilsons' Wines and Baggs and Durnham to find our guest of honor tonight," a surprisingly pleasant, yet very generic voice said.

Its message finished, the howler turned to ash. Tonks turned to look at Moody who was studying the other patrons, wondering who would stand first. Not surprisingly, that turned out to be Rita Skeeter, who hurried out the back, followed closely by her photographer.

More people followed, and finally Moody stood. "Might as well see this thing through," he said, clearly displeased, probably because he was imagining all the different ways someone could have prepared the area with any number of lethal traps.

Soon enough, they had joined the line of people following the instructions from the howler, though Tonks was not surprised to see most people managed to keep at least a few feet away from the intimidating Auror at her side.

Finally, they arrived, and Tonks was surprised to see a heavy, balding, middle-aged man suspended on the wall half a dozen feet above the ground. The presence of the Dark Mark on his arm made his allegiance clear. While Tonks didn't recognize him, it was clear that Moody did when he let out a sound that almost sounded like he'd been sucker-punched.

"Who is that?" she asked softly.

"Peter Pettigrew," he replied tersely. "Supposed to have been killed by Sirius Black."

Pettigrew's mouth was moving, but Tonks couldn't hear anything as they approached. Surprisingly, however, people closer seemed to be able to hear just fine. The transition was so sudden that it was obviously some sort of ward. She took one more step, and suddenly, she could hear everything the secret Death Eater was saying.

"-vinced Lily and James that I would be a better secret keeper, but was so subtle that they thought it was their idea," the man said in a monotone voice, clearly having been given some sort of truth serum.

"Did you ever intend to keep them safe?" the same voice from the howler asked.

"No. It was my intention to allow the Dark Lord to attack them."

"Was Sirius Black a Death Eater?"

Tonks's throat suddenly went dry at that question. Here was final proof of what her mother had suspected for so long.

"No," came the reply.

"When you and Black had a confrontation in muggle London, who cast the spell that killed the muggles?"

"I did," Pettigrew said.

The questions continued, but there was another source of noise drew her attention. Scrimgeour and some of his toadies like Dawlish were trying to force people to leave on the grounds that this was now the scene of an active Auror investigation.

Tonks wanted to scoff. That wouldn't do much good now. Far too many people had heard too much to cover it up. And judging by the gleam in Skeeter's eye, many more people would be hearing about it tomorrow.


	17. Chapter 16: Justice and Power

Chapter 16: Justice and Power

Uncle Vernon had, on more than one occasion, complained about the 'wheels of justice' turning slowly. And now, at last, Harry understood exactly what he meant. More than two weeks had passed, and there had been no real action from the Ministry regarding his godfather.

Amelia Bones had sent a nice letter informing him that someone connected with his parents' murders was in custody, but had included no real details. The Daily Prophet had reported on a suspected Death Eater who had been arrested by Aurors, but there was no indication of what said Death Eater had done. And of course, there was no mention of Sirius Black.

Peter was constantly advising patience. It was only logical, the man had said, that the Ministry would want to take its time ensuring that everything Pettigrew had said was the truth, and not just some ploy to get a top-level Death Eater out of prison. But lately, Harry had begun to see a bit of concern in his friend's eyes suggesting that maybe Peter wasn't quite as optimistic as he pretended.

Fortunately for Harry, he had a few other things that he could focus on. School, of course, kept him reasonably busy, and he was always working on learning more combat spells for Defense Against the Dark Arts. The class itself continued to be a bit of a letdown, with the primary focus on potentially hazardous creatures, but there were plenty of books in the library, even if he did have to sneak into the restricted section on occasion. And, a few days later, there was something even more important that drew Harry's attention.

Retrieving the omnioculars that he had stealthily placed in the potions laboratory was no more difficult than placing them had been. Watching the recording of the "punishment" the vicious bullies had suffered without breaking something (or finding and breaking them) was far more difficult.

Chad had adjusted the omnioculars to record from 6 to 10 every week night, rather than try to find a way to remotely activate the hidden devices. Given that the detentions only lasted two hours each night (if that) a large percentage of the recording simply showed an empty classroom. But the times that showed the detention made Harry glad he had a record of just how ridiculous the Hogwarts sense of justice was.

As he had suspected when he first learned that Snape was going to be in charge of the detentions, the punishment the Slytherins had suffered was an absolute joke. While they had been required to clean cauldrons the first few days, Snape had made it clear that they were primarily being punished for being caught, not for what they did. And, within a week, even that farce of a penalty was gone. Instead, the students spent their time working on homework, with frequent breaks to laugh and joke about what they had done.

Harry may not be able to do more to push things forward in the case of Sirius Black, but in this matter his hands weren't tied.

* * *

Spreading the word throughout Hogwarts was even easier than Harry had thought. After all, he had proof for anyone who wanted to see.

"I watched all of the records, and of their forty hours of detention, the Slytherins spent just over eight hours on actual punishment, specifically cleaning cauldrons," he announced to the gathered students. "The remainder was spent either working on homework, or joking about their crimes and laughing at their victims. Anyone who wants to see is welcome to look at these omnioculars. I recorded the whole thing."

A few people took him up on the offer. Harry had already queued the recording to the right place for maximum effect, and it didn't take long for people to realize that he was telling the truth.

"Tell your friends," he instructed before he left. "Spread the word. If this is the extent of what the Hogwarts faculty will do, we need to make our own justice."

* * *

The news spread through the school like wildfire, which proved to be both a good and a bad thing. Almost all of the students knew about the absolute joke the punishment had been. Unfortunately, Snape and Dumbledore soon found out as well, which is how Harry wound up in the Headmaster's office with Dumbledore trying to play the disappointed grandfather, and Snape doing a marvelous impression of a rabid dog, all but frothing at the mouth.

"Surely you understand, Harry, that Professor Snape cannot be seen to punish students too harshly," Dumbledore implored.

"First off, that's ridiculous. If he's going to be a teacher here, he needs to follow the same rules as everyone else, including enforcing discipline fairly. And second, if he really couldn't punish them appropriately, then you shouldn't have had your pet Death Eater handle the detentions," Harry retorted angrily.

Snape said nothing, but the anger in his eyes grew hotter at that comment.

"There are many complicated issues at play here that you do not understand," Dumbledore tried.

"Doesn't matter," Harry said, cutting the old man off. "Those students brutally attacked five people, and the punishment you gave them was an absolute joke."

"And thus, you intend to rally the students to punish them yourself? How does that make you any better than them?" Dumbledore demanded, his voice rising just a little.

Harry refused to be cowed. "All I'm doing is revealing the truth of what happened during those detentions. How others choose to respond is not my decision. But yes, I certainly hope that they will be punished."

"I'm afraid that is something that I cannot allow," Dumbledore said, shaking his head sadly. "Vigilante justice is never acceptable. I will be confiscating both of those omnioculars."

"Fine," Harry replied with a shrug, careful not to give any hint that he had other recordings he hadn't told anyone about. "Everyone already knows the truth. All you're doing is proving to all the other students that you're trying to protect a bunch of vicious criminals. I wonder what they'll think of that."

* * *

"It's just so frustrating," Harry complained to Peter a few nights later. "Everyone knows what they did, but nobody can really do anything. All seven of the attackers are Slytherins with no real ties to any of the other houses, so the fact that nobody outside of Slytherin wants anything to do with them has no real impact. Sure, it means that Slytherin house as a whole is being isolated a bit more than usual, but that's hardly a punishment for most of them. I doubt they even noticed. They certainly don't care."

"I know it's difficult, but there really isn't much that you can do right now," Peter cautioned.

Harry wasn't really paying attention to his friend, however. "In some ways, they're actually considered to be heroes in Slytherin! The ones that fought for what they believed in, and suffered for it," he ranted. "And everyone just lets it go. A few people shake their heads in disappointment, but most just ignore it."

"I agree that justice in magical Britain is a bit of a joke, but that's what we're working to change. As maddening as it is, we need to accept that things are a long way from perfect, and it's going to take time for us to make a difference."

"Meanwhile, my godfather rots in a prison despite being innocent, and students get praised for attacking other kids," Harry spat bitterly. "I can't believe my parents actually fought for this society."

Peter sighed. "You're not going to hear me defending it. That's part of why I left. But change has to start somewhere."

"And maybe change would happen faster if good people weren't so determined to take the moral high ground," Harry countered. "Take justice into their own hands, rather than leaving it to a corrupt government."

"You're not entirely wrong, but that sort of response only escalates things. Let's say that you punish them as you think they deserve. An eye for an eye. What then? The ministry punishes you. Is that what you want?"

"Only if they know it was me in the first place," Harry muttered angrily, but he could understand the older man's point.

"I wish I could tell you that everything will work out in the end. That good people will be rewarded, and the bad people will be punished. But the truth is, injustice is an unfortunate fact of life. We do the best we can, but humanity will never be perfect."

"There's a big difference between 'humans aren't perfect' and students being required to clean cauldrons for a few hours to make up for brutally attacking children," Harry retorted, but his heart really wasn't in it.

"I know, and we will find a way to ensure that those young men are punished for their actions. But right now, our options are limited. We need to keep an eye on the real target, continue to work on exposing and eliminating corruption in the ministry. That's the key. Until that corruption has been dealt with, there isn't much we can do," Peter finished with a sympathetic smile.

"You're right," Harry reluctantly admitted.

* * *

"There's something very wrong at this school," Harry muttered as he glared at Malfoy, who was being followed by most of the other Slytherins in their year.

"You're just now realizing that?" Neville asked, his voice a mix of anger and resignation.

"Things may not be perfect, but the teachers are doing their best," Hermione stated.

Harry gritted his teeth in frustration. Hermione's respect and even _admiration_ for the professors was really getting on his nerves. Biting back an angry retort, he instead just walked off.

Maybe it would have been better if he had stayed and gotten into an argument with Hermione. Even if they'd had some harsh words to say to each other, they could have worked past eventually. Instead, as he stormed off, he heard Parkinson say in a simpering voice, "You're so brave, Draco, fighting back against the mudbloods like that."

Harry saw red.

* * *

"This is a bad idea," Harry admitted softly to himself. He was past the point of caring, however. All of the rage and anger that had been building for the past few weeks finally had a target. It had taken everything he had yesterday not to race over a beat Malfoy and his sycophants bloody. Only by focusing his thoughts on a more satisfying option had he managed to restrain himself.

He'd spent all night planning, including a few days in Timeland preparing. And now, he was ready.

Hidden under his invisibility cloak, he carefully checked the map, watching as his targets walked around their dormitories. After a few minutes, the first target, Philip Greengrass, exited the Slytherin common room with a few friends. Harry waited until they had passed, then shot a few _confundus_ charms and a stunner. As he had hoped, the two friends continued walking toward the main staircase, completely ignoring their fallen friend.

Rushing over, Harry levitated the stunned boy down into the expanded trunk that lead to Timeland, then checked the map once more, preparing himself for the next target.

There was one spot of difficulty when two of his targets left the dorms in the middle of a large group of students, but fortunately for Harry, the _confundus_ charm was invisible. He charmed the two boys to think they needed to go to the bathroom on the first floor, then stunned them as soon as they were out of sight of the others.

His other targets, such as Malfoy, were much easier. After gathering them all and quickly dosing them with Draught of Living Death, he dumped them in the gym at Timeland, then hurried up to the Great Hall for breakfast.

He and Hermione weren't really speaking to each other, which suited him just fine for now. Neville sat awkwardly between them, but all three ate in silence.

If anyone noticed that seven students were missing from the Slytherin table, they didn't say anything.

Classes passed as usual. The first few hours, Harry was constantly expecting Dumbledore or Snape to burst in, demanding to know what he had done with the Slytherins. Fortunately, he'd had the foresight to take a calming draught before he began the operation, which helped considerably. And as the day wore on, he was more and more certain that he had gotten away with it.

At dinner, Harry had the feeling that Dumbledore and Snape were watching everyone more closely than usual, but he couldn't spend too much time observing them for fear that they would notice his unusual behavior. After all, these days he normally pretended they didn't exist.

By now, the professors had certainly noticed the missing students, but no mention of them was made. Instead, the meal went as usual, and soon, Harry was accompanying the rest of the Gryffindors up to their tower.

The trio spent a few hours working on homework in the common room, though Harry's mind was a million miles away. Finally, it was time for bed.

The other boys fell asleep quickly, aided by a subtly cast _somnus_ charm. Once he was confident that his roommates were sound asleep, Harry sprung out of bed and raced to Timeland, entering the gym with his want already drawn, just in case the Draught of Living Death had already worn off. As he had hoped, all seven Slytherins were still under the draught's effects, lying in enchanted sleep.

Harry studied them closely. The Draught was supposed to be so effective that it suspended all bodily functions, even things like hair growth. This should mean that there would be no clues that the boys had been held in a time compression vault like this one. And without that crucial piece of evidence, it would be impossible to prove that he had been involved. After all, Harry had attended all of his classes today. The professors themselves were his alibi.

Pressing a button on an old recorder filled the room with the sound of screaming that Harry had recorded in preparation for tonight's event. After all, it was important to set the stage to ensure that his guests got the full experience. Malicious glee rose up in Harry as he dragged Malfoy to the first room. It was time for some real justice.

* * *

Draco Malfoy woke with a scream as cold water splashed all over his body. He looked down to see that he was wearing just his underwear. Trying to cover his pale, skinny body proved impossible, as his hands were tied behind his back.

"Draco Malfoy," a voice purred. He looked up to see a dark figure with a mask looking at him. There were no clues to the person's identity other than the voice and curves that made it clear he was looking at a female, probably a few years older than him.

"You've been a very naughty boy," the girl continued. Draco tried to stay resolute, but couldn't help the shiver that wracked his whole body as an agonized scream came from somewhere outside.

"A few of my comrades think that we should just cripple you all and be done with it, but, then again, you are just a little boy. We probably can't hold you fully accountable for the horrible things you've done. Can we?"

Draco shook his head, not trusting his voice.

"Do you feel bad about the things you did?"

He nodded his head frantically.

"Well then, I suppose I'll give you the chance to prove it." Now the girl sounded like she was smiling, but it didn't bring Draco any comfort. She waved a wand... Draco's wand, he realized, and the bands on his wrists disappeared.

"Over in the corner is a weight. Hold it in your right hand with your arm fully extended. If you can hold it up for five minutes, I won't do anything to punish you for half an hour. If your arm drops, however, I get to do whatever I want."

Some of Draco's despair must have shown through, for the voice instantly chided him, saying, "Now, now, this is more of a chance than you gave your victims. If you really want to, I'm sure that a strong pureblood such as yourself can hold up a little weight like that." The voice turned more sinister. "Or are you going to refuse my generous offer to avoid the punishment you so richly deserve?"

Swallowing deeply, the scared boy scrambled over to the corner and picked up the weight.

"Hold it out," the girl commanded.

Trembling, Draco did as instructed. A sob passed through his lips as he realized that there was no way he would last for the full time. He was struggling even now.

A soft ticking noise filled the room, and he realized that the girl had set a timer that was slowly counting down. His eyes remained fixed on the target, his breath becoming more and more labored as the seconds passed. His arm felt like lead. But he refused to give up.

To his horror, and, judging by the laugh, the girl's amusement, Draco lasted only 56 seconds. As the weight fell from his shaking hands, he turned to the girl, hoping to plead for mercy. She already had the wand out and pointing at him, however. His limbs were bound by an incarcerous.

"Now, I don't know if the Aurors could figure out who I am if I were to actually cast curses at you, so I'm not going to use magic for your punishment. Unfortunately for you, those muggles you despise so much have come up with some fairly creative ways of causing pain," she said as she lifted a large metal object that looked a little like a beater's bat. "Maybe after this, you'll be more dedicated when I give you the chance to avoid your next punishment."

Draco's screams filled the room, but that didn't stop his tormentor.

* * *

Marcus Flint awoke to find that he was hanging upside down, his arms and legs bound. A large tub filled with water lay beneath him. A small fire burned brightly in one corner, casting shadows throughout the room. He ignored the screams coming from outside the room, squirming to see what else was in the room. As he twisted, he could see a figure all in black observing him silently.

"Who are you?" he demanded angrily.

"Judge, jury, and, if you piss me off, executioner," a deep voice replied just as angrily.

"What do you want?" Marcus asked, a little more fear creeping into his voice now.

"You to suffer," the other boy replied. "I'm sure some of the others will try to give cute lectures on morality or something like that. Unfortunately for you, I'm not even going to try. You beat up muggleborns for fun. You're just like the Death Eaters that killed my mom. I've been waiting years for a chance for some vengeance. And since I can't get them, you'll have to do. I've got twelve hours. And I'm going to make the most of it."

The figure reached out and pulled a lever, and Marcus felt himself falling until his head and upper torso were submerged in the icy water. He held his breath for as long as he could, but finally it was too much. He tried to breath, but instead, pain filled him as the freezing water entered his lungs. He felt himself being pulled up out of the water. As his head broke the surface, he began coughing, gasping gratefully for breath as the water drained out of his lungs.

"That must have been unpleasant," the other boy said with mocking sympathy. "You must be cold now. Fortunately, I have ways of warming you up," he added as he pulled a glowing poker from the fire."

* * *

Philip Greengrass couldn't move anything besides his eyes, so tight were his restraints. He tried to ignore the screams that filled the room, but there was no escape. He could only watch as his tormentor prowled around the room, entering and exiting Philip's line of sight as he prepared something on the table along the wall.

"Snape always seems to laugh whenever you Slytherins mess up somebody else's potion. I thought this would be a good chance for you to see just how dangerous screwing with potions could really be," the boy, probably only a few years younger than Philip himself, explained with a broad smile visible even through the mask.

The boy flicked the contents of the bowl he was holding in Philip's directions, and the older Slytherin screamed as his skin burned where the potion had landed.

"That sounded painful," the boy said with enthusiasm. "Should we try a different one?"

* * *

As Harry deposited his final victim back in the gym, he took a moment to observe them all. The older ones (and Malfoy) had received more physical punishments, while the others had been tortured psychologically. Montague, for example, had been the recipient of what Dudley called "Chinese Water Torture", which had been surprisingly effective.

Regardless of what form the torment had taken, in all cases it had been effective. Each of the Slytherins had broken, pleading for mercy and howling in agony and despair. Harry allowed himself a moment to relish just how effective the whole operation had been. A little bit of Polyjuice and some carefully seeded comments giving clues about the various identities ensured that none of the boys suspected Harry Potter's involvement. Probably not something that Peter had intended for Harry to during their little plan to expose Pettigrew's crimes, but Harry was grateful nonetheless.

There was just one last thing to do before he took the Slytherins back to Hogwarts. He grabbed some paint and a brush. _Let's see, Malfoy is the youngest, so he'll be the 'J', _Harry thought.

* * *

After dumping his victims throughout Hogwarts, Harry returned to his dorm via the window, just as he had left so that there would be no record of him coming or going. It was strange to think back on what he had done. A month ago, he never would have imagined something like this, and yet, it was strangely cathartic. All the anger and rage that he had been feeling was gone, replaced by a sense of satisfied vindication and empowerment. The Slytherins had been punished for their crimes, and he would find some way to get Sirius Black out of his prison, whether the Ministry would cooperate or not.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, hushed whispers filled the Great Hall. Nobody knew exactly what had happened, but everyone agreed that something significant had occurred last night. Of course, the fact that Aurors were standing along one wall, observing the students suspiciously provided plenty of proof.

Dumbledore stood to make an announcement, his face grave. "I must unfortunately inform you all of a most unacceptable event which occurred yesterday. While you all know, a group of misguided students were responsible for a series of attacks before they were discovered and punished. However, this was not enough for certain people, who brutally assaulted these students in the foolish notion that 'an eye for an eye' would somehow make things right."

He paused for a moment, looking severely at the students gathered in the hall. "They tortured the students most horrendously for hours, proving themselves to be no better than the people they claim to despise before leaving them in deserted classrooms around Hogwarts. Despite the horrible crimes they committed, these people clearly feel that that they are in the right, given the fact that they painted the letters of the word 'Justice' on the torsos of their victims." His voice hardened, and a chill seemed to sweep through the hall. "But this is not justice in any form. These students will be held accountable for their actions. The Aurors that you see will be questioning students throughout the day. I ask you to cooperate with them fully. Such a thing is not acceptable at Hogwarts."

Dumbledore took a moment to gather himself, then continued, his voice a bit calmer now. "To any members of this organization, I advise you to turn yourselves in. You will be given more leniency than if you do not. And if anybody has information about this group, which calls itself the 'Hands of Justice and Power', I ask you to inform the Aurors or myself."

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. _Hands of Justice and Power? Where did that come from?_ he wondered. He thought about it for a few more minutes as the Headmaster sat down and whispers once more filled the room.

_Hands of Justice and Power. Hands… Justice… Power… H J P._ Harry felt his blood run cold as he realized why Dumbledore was claiming that name for the group.


	18. Chapter 17: Collateral Damage

Chapter 17: Collateral Damage

Harry was no stranger to angry glares. Sometimes it seemed that he'd spent half of his time at Hogwarts being hated and shunned by the other students. This time, however, he was cautiously pleased to note that not all the students focusing on him did so with obvious malice. Instead, there were some people who seemed to be looking at him almost… appraisingly. He wasn't quite sure what to make of that.

Of course, there were also people who were openly hostile, which is how Harry found himself trading spells with three older Slytherins. None of them were particularly skilled, and if it had been one on one, Harry was sure that he could have easily defeated any of them. With all three working together, coming at him from two different directions, it was more difficult than he would have liked. He still won, of course, but he was a little singed from the encounter.

When his attackers were finally stunned, Harry quickly gathered their wands.

Looking back, while his actions against Malfoy and the others had been satisfying, they certainly weren't overly wise. Even without Dumbledore's lie about the group name, Harry was undoubtedly one of the top suspects, given that he had been the one to defeat them when they were attacking Hope Callow, not to mention he had recorded their detentions and shown it off to everyone willing to watch. To make matters worse, he hadn't used the forgetfulness potion, so if he were to be interrogated under veritaserum, he would be forced to admit everything. Now, he just had to do whatever it took to avoid such an interrogation.

Most people might think that Harry's goal was to avoid the attention of the Aurors, but that was, in fact, the exact opposite of what he wanted. During his time stuck with the Dursleys before he'd ever even heard of Hogwarts, he had been blamed for a great many things. Some of those things he'd actually done. But he'd long ago realized the secret to getting away without getting caught. Don't act guilty. Act like everything is normal, and even if people have some suspicions, they won't press the issue because they don't want to be wrong. At least, it worked with the Dursleys. Harry was hoping that the same principle would work here.

"Auror… Pickering? Did I remember your name correctly?" he called as he entered the Great Hall.

A middle-aged Auror turned around, looking at the boy in front of him in surprise. "Yes, that's my name. What do you want, Potter?"

"I understand that you are here investigating people attacking students. I came to report just such an occurrence," he replied with a bright smile. "Three individuals attacked me not five minutes ago. I'm afraid that I don't know their names, but I did take their wands, which, according to my information, can be used to see what spells they cast. I'm also willing to present my wand for similar testing to prove my innocence in these matters."

Pickering looked uncomfortably around the Great Hall, painfully aware that all eyes were now on him. "Given that you were unharmed, we have more important things to worry about – people that were actually injured when attacked."

"The fact that I successfully defended myself doesn't change their intent. They were casting spells that would have severely injured, perhaps even killed me. That's a crime, is it not?"

"Unfortunately, at this time, we are investigating a different crime that has been given higher priority," the Auror said tightly, still glancing at the students paying close attention.

"So, you're here to investigate what happened to Malfoy and the others, and you'll completely ignore any other crimes against those of us of… lesser birth," Harry retorted, all semblance of courtesy gone now. "Just like you're ignoring the fact that each of those 'victims' you're trying to get justice for was guilty of doing the exact same thing to other students."

He paused for a moment to study the Auror. "So, I guess the real question is, are you a blood bigot, or are you just too much of a coward to stand up to the ones who are?"

He didn't wait for a reply. His goal here had been accomplished. He'd pointed out the double standard in the Auror response, and (hopefully) convinced people that he was innocent. After all, a guilty person wouldn't so boldly confront the Aurors, now would they? He kept repeating that to himself the whole way back to his dorm, trying to make himself believe it.

* * *

While the looks that many of the students at Hogwarts were giving him were unpleasant, the look of disappointment on Peter's face when they met the next day was like a knife in the gut.

"I'm sorry," Harry said before his friend had a chance to utter a word.

"Sorry for what?" Peter asked, his face now an inscrutable mask.

"Sorry for attacking the Slytherins," Harry replied.

Peter sighed. "You weren't necessarily wrong in what you did. What I really have issue with is how you did it."

The confusion Harry was feeling must have been evident on his face, because Peter explained further. "You forget, I went to Hogwarts with a bunch of people who went on to become Death Eaters. I understand the frustration of watching them get away with crimes that should have seen them jailed. But your actions turned them into victims, some people might even say martyrs. And, you've risked us both in order to do so. Did you consider what would happen if they found out that I was working with you?"

Harry shook his head mutely.

"From now on, you need to keep me informed of what you're up to. I don't have a problem with us working a little outside of what the Ministry would accept, within reason, but I need to know what you're doing. Otherwise, you're risking us both, not to mention Heather as well, and, while I want to help you and I agree with what you're trying to do, I'm not willing to put my family at risk. Understood?"

Harry nodded. "I understand. I was just… I was just so angry. They attacked those kids, and some of the other students were treating them like heroes because of it."

Peter's expression softened. "Like I said, I understand how you feel. But we need to be smart about this. For now, let's start with damage control. Obviously, they don't have any solid proof, or they would have already arrested you. Is there anything that might lead back to you?"

"I did my best to cover my tracks. Used different Polyjuice with each one of the Slytherins, acted differently as well, planted some fake information about the attackers… things like that. There should be enough fake leads that even if there was something that might suggest it was me, it would be tough for them to find the real clue mixed in with all the fakes."

"And this name… I assume that Dumbledore just made that up?" Peter pressed.

"Yes. I'm not stupid enough to use my initials for a name for my top-secret vigilante group," Harry said, rolling his eyes at the stupidity of anyone who actually believed that. Unfortunately, that seemed to include a decent chunk of the Hogwarts student body.

"Do you think he actually knows it was you, or does he just suspect?" Peter asked seriously. "Or is he just blaming you because he can?" he added as an afterthought.

"I don't know. I think, at best, he just suspects. If he does have some way of knowing everything about what is going on in Hogwarts, then we have a bigger problem than we thought, because that would mean that he deliberately allowed all those other students to get attacked."

"That's a good point," Peter replied softly. He thought for a moment. "As long as people think that really is the group's name, it's going to cast suspicion on you. We'll need to change that. Maybe set off a howler during one of the meals as a sort of…" Peter trailed off, trying to find the right word. "Manifesto, I suppose, including the group's real name." He paused briefly, looking thoughtful. "Or maybe not. If people think that is the name, you would be able to testify under truth serum that you are not a member of the 'Hands of Justice and Power'. That might be enough of an advantage to offset a little bit of suspicion from the more gullible part of the population."

It was good that their discussion took place in Timeland, for it went on for several hours. It was time well spent, however, and Harry came away feeling much more confident than he had been just a short time ago.

* * *

Unfortunately, Harry's good mood didn't last for long. The first indication that something bad was going to happen was in the Daily Prophet, with the headline proclaiming that Amelia Bones had been fired, and that the Minister's Office would be taking control of the DMLE until a suitable replacement could be found. The article included a quote from Cornelius Fudge, pledging that those guilty for the "heinous attacks at Hogwarts" would be found and punished.

Not surprisingly, this unsettling bit of news was followed by something even worse, when several unpleasant-looking individuals in Auror robes entered the Great Hall, followed closely by a short, squat woman with an uncomfortably wide mouth. Harry studied the toad-faced woman closely as she walked toward the professors at the front of the hall.

"Good morning, Madam Umbridge," Dumbledore said, standing politely as she drew near.

"Dumbledore," the woman replied, her voice sounding sickeningly satisfied. "You received the message from the Minister, I assume?"

It could have been Harry's imagination, but he thought he saw a flicker of irritation pass across the headmaster's face. If Dumbledore was feeling any such emotion, there was no trace of it in his voice as he responded. "Yes, I did. Though I still maintain the position I expressed during our meeting. I believe that the Ministry is making a mistake."

"That is not for you to concern yourself with. We will be taking the criminals into custody immediately." She turned and nodded to the Aurors, who had apparently already been given their assignments.

Harry stared in confusion as six students were grabbed roughly and all but dragged out of the room, many of them screaming protests that they had done nothing wrong. A quick glance showed that the other students were just as shocked as he was. Well, most of the other students.

Harry's eyes narrowed as he stared at the Slytherin table, where Malfoy and a few of his cronies were smirking.

* * *

It didn't take long for the Hogwarts rumor mill to put the facts together. This meant that, to Harry's great surprise, his best source for information turned out to be Lavender Brown. Exactly how accurate that information was, he couldn't say. But it was a valuable insight into the current mind and mood of the Hogwarts students in general.

"Not a chance," Lavender said bluntly when asked if the students were actually guilty.

Not surprisingly, Percy Weasley was quick to jump to the Ministry's defense. "I'm sure that the Minister for Magic has proof of their guilt. Proof that he doesn't need to share with a bunch of little schoolchildren," he replied officiously, as though he himself was not one of said schoolchildren.

Lavender, of course, was not about to back down. "Courtney Shepherds? No way. A few weeks ago, she was making out with Bryson Meadows, and he tried to get handsy with her. She freaked out. Screamed loud enough that the prefects caught them. You're telling me someone like that was willing to torture people for hours? Not likely."

Percy looked like he was about to say something, but he didn't have a chance before the girl continued. "And Jack Fuller? He was in Care of Magical Creatures earlier this year and his friend got bit by a niffler, hard enough that he was bleeding. Fuller doesn't do well with blood. He passed out. There's no way some one like that would be able to torture people," Lavender concluded with complete confidence.

Harry just hoped that the Ministry and Wizengamot would agree with the girl.

* * *

Several days passed without any real news. According to the latest gossip, the students were being held at the Ministry until their trial. Unfortunately, nobody seemed to know when that trial would be.

For Harry, this just made things worse, as the feelings of guilt grew every day. Still, regular doses of calming draughts made it easy to act like nothing was wrong.

That week's meeting with Peter had an unexpected, but not unfamiliar, face in attendance.

"Chad figured out it was you. I figured it would be easier to stay on the same page if he came to the meetings from now on."

"Apparently, I wasn't as careful as I thought if so many people have already realized I was behind it," Harry said, a little miffed.

"Well, it wasn't like I had real evidence. Just a bit of Occam's Razor. The simplest explanation is usually the best. The ones that attacked those students were a secretive group that wants to see justice done. I already knew you had group like that. There was no reason to imagine that there might be another. All the rest is just smoke and mirrors," the American explained with a smile.

"Do you have any problem with it?" Harry asked, somewhat guardedly.

"Not at all," Chad replied quickly. "As far as I'm concerned, they got what was coming to them. The issue now, I think, is how to ensure that you don't get caught."

"That doesn't seem to be a problem as long as Fudge and Umbridge are running the show," Peter interjected.

"Yeah, instead a bunch of innocent kids are locked up waiting for a trial that could be months or years away," Harry countered heavily.

"Not to be overly cynical, or to make light of their current situation, but it could be worse. At least they're being held at your ministry, and not in that prison with the soul-sucking, happiness-eating monsters," Chad pointed out.

"And, as soon as the trial does come around, they'll be able to prove their innocence easily. They can choose to be questioned under veritaserum. It's quite rare, as I understand it, but nobody can protest it, and the Wizengamot wouldn't be able to ignore their testimony, since it's not like any of them have the occlumency training that would allow them to lie under veritaserum," Peter said calmly. "I think the best thing we can do is to keep that awareness in the public mind. Harry, you continue to bring it up in school, make sure that the other students are asking their families about any developments. We want anyone with a connection to the ministry to be asking questions. Make sure that they can't slip this under the rug."

"There are other options," Chad countered. "If there were more attacks, the students that are being held by the Aurors certainly couldn't be guilty," he suggested

"It wouldn't prove that the students they had in custody were innocent of the original attacks, though. They could just decide that the new attacks were the result of copycats, or done by friends to prove their innocence," Harry argued, not wanting to admit that he had already thought of that idea. Thought about it, and rejected it. Far too many ways for it to go wrong. _Something I need to do a lot better at paying attention to,_ he thought bitterly.

A few more ideas were discussed, but in the end, they just kept coming back around to Peter's original idea. Ensure that people were aware of what had happened and the ministry's response, and let the truth come out in the trial. Harry wasn't entirely satisfied with it, but it would do for now.

He didn't see the looks that Peter and Chad exchanged every so often when he got especially morose at the thought of the students who were being blamed for his actions.

* * *

"You seem a little depressed about what's happening," Chad began after the meeting.

"About how other students are suffering because of me? Yeah. It's not something I like to think about," Harry replied tersely.

"You know I've traveled around a lot," Chad said, looking a little uncomfortable.

"Yeah, you mentioned that," Harry responded, a little confused.

"Yeah, I was in Ireland when I met Peter. I was doing a little research on the Hill of Tara, and the Tomb of Eochaid. Old magical places like that. And a few of the caves there have some fascinating legends. That's actually what I was researching when I met Peter in Bandon. Killavullen and Cloyne Caves are near there, and there's some old myths associated with both of those places. There's actually lots of legends about old caves like that. Stories that go back hundreds, even thousands of years about caves being secret passages to the lands of the Aes Sidhe. I didn't find any real evidence, but there were some interesting things that I found…"

"Chad, not to be rude, but are you going somewhere with this?" Harry asked wearily. "I assume that you are making some sort of comparison that will convince me to stop feeling so guilty, but I have no idea what that point is."

"What? No! I mean, that would be kind of weird, right? I mean, we're not girls, being all… emotional… and stuff," Chad said awkwardly.

Harry just looked at him blankly.

"If I were trying to make some sort of point so that you would stop feeling so guilty," the American began hesitantly, not quite making eye contact with the dark haired boy, "it would be that I've traveled all over the world, and seen lots of places. Some good, some really not good. And what I found is that in places where life is good and people are happy, it's because somewhere in the past, their ancestors fought and died to build that sort of society. It's never easy, but it's worth it, especially for future generations. What's happening to those kids sucks, but it's better than just ignoring the crime and corruption. There's always going to be some innocent people who suffer when you take a stand. You just do the best you can to minimize it," he finished.

"That's a good point," Harry replied, nodding his head, slowly. "I mean, if you were making a point, which I know you weren't. But if you were making a point, it would have been a good one."

"Good," Chad said, and walked away looking relieved that that particular conversation was over.

Harry watched him go with a small smile. Truth was, Chad's argument was nothing he hadn't already told himself multiple times. But the fact that somebody else was willing to voice the same thoughts, and (despite the obvious discomfort he felt) express them in order to support Harry, helped a lot.

* * *

"Hey Harry!"

Harry turned to see who had called him. To his surprise, it was a Hufflepuff, maybe one of the Chasers on their Quidditch team, he thought, though he wasn't sure.

"Yeah, what is it?" he asked, not wanting to be rude, but also not wanting to be late to Transfiguration.

"We've never met, but I'm Cedric Diggory," the boy said. "I want to talk to you about proving that those students they arrested are actually innocent."

"How would we do that? And why come to me?" Harry asked, concerned that another person was now convinced he was the one responsible.

"Well, you were the one that got those omniocular recordings," Cedric said. "I figured that you would probably know who reacted the most to them."

"Just because someone disagreed with how those Slytherins were punished doesn't necessarily mean that they decided to administer their own form of justice," Harry pointed out. "And even if I did have some ideas who was behind it, I don't like the idea of just turning other people over to the Ministry's non-existent mercy."

"No, I'm not saying you should," Cedric replied quickly. "I'm just saying, you probably know as well as anybody that they're actually innocent. I mean, I don't know all of them, but I do know Jack, and I know he's not the type to do something like that. And that's what I want to prove."

Harry shot one last glance down the hallway. "I like it, but I need to get to class before McGonagall has me in detention. Can we talk after dinner?"

Cedric nodded, and Harry hurried down the hall.

* * *

Cedric's idea turned out to be quite simple.

"The Prophet reported that the 'victims' were tortured for approximately _twelve hours_," the older boy said a few hours later. "Now, they used that to demonstrate how monstrous the attackers were. But what nobody is looking at is that means that the attackers had to be absent from class for most of the day. The Slytherins were released around 11 PM at the latest, which means that the attacks were happening during the school day. If we can find people who can confirm that they saw the ones the ministry arrested in classes that day, that proves that they're innocent," he emphasized. "I mean, unless they somehow got a Time-Turner in order to be in two places at once," he added.

Making a mental note to find out what a 'Time-Turner' was, Harry asked the obvious question. "And could that have had a Time-Turner?"

Cedric scoffed. "Everyone that was arrested was muggleborn. And there's no way the Department of Mysteries would let a muggleborn have such a priceless and powerful item." He blanched as he realized how what he said could be interpreted. "Not that I'm saying there's anything wrong with muggleborn having something like that, I'm just saying…"

"The ministry is full of blood bigots," Harry finished.

"Right," Cedric said. "So, what do you think?"

Harry smiled. "I think it's worth a try."

* * *

When he got back to his dorm, Harry noticed that Peter had sent a message with the old communication notebooks, requesting a meeting as soon as possible. Harry responded quickly, and they were meeting in Timeland less than an hour later.

"What's up?" Harry asked.

"I wanted you to know, I got word from one of my contacts in the Ministry about your godfather," Peter began.

"Finally!" Harry exclaimed. "Have they set a date for a trial, or a re-trial, or whatever yet?"

"That's just it," the older man said. "He was tried just a few weeks ago. And he was found innocent, but now he's being held in Azkaban pending further investigation."

"What does that mean?" Harry asked, confused and concerned.

"I have absolutely no idea."

* * *

A/N – I want to make one thing very clear right now. Harry and his team are trying to eliminate corruption in the government, and fix many flaws in their society. This will necessitate a number of discussions regarding political topics. I am not actually promoting or endorsing any particular political or philosophical views here (outside of the basic idea that corruption is bad and the law should apply equally to everyone – I doubt anyone is going to argue with me on this). These characters will be expressing their opinions on the specific situation in magical Britain. This is not intended to be a metaphor for any other country's political situations.

Similarly, when I do bring up real-world situations, remember that these are imperfect characters using incomplete knowledge as a reference to their own situation. Chad's little speech, for example, was not intended to imply that countries that are struggling have nobody to blame but themselves and their ancestors, who obviously weren't willing to pay the price for a good society.

It hasn't been a problem yet, but I would like to avoid having the comments filled up with politically charged arguments. Thoughtful discussion, sure, but let's keep it civil, please.


	19. Chapter 18: Digging Deeper

Chapter 18: Digging Deeper

"So, we have three people that can vouch for Watson being in Transfiguration," Cedric said, glancing at his notes. "Unfortunately, McGonagall isn't being overly cooperative, so we don't have any adult confirmation on that. However, at least she isn't saying that he was gone."

"You'd think the head of Gryffindor would have the courage to stand up for the truth, rather than just keeping her mouth shut to avoid problems with the ministry," Harry remarked bitterly.

It was certainly the truth, and everyone there knew it. When Cedric and Harry had begun work on proving that the students who had been arrested were, in fact, innocent, many people had willingly joined in their efforts. Now, more than a dozen people were gathered in the room, reporting the results of their interviews with their classmates. Several of the teachers had assisted the group by signing affidavits that, according to their records, those students were in class at the time the crimes had been committed. McGonagall, Snape and Sinistra were the only ones who weren't helping in that regard. Though to be fair to Professor Sinistra, she didn't really have anything she could report, since her Astronomy classes were at night.

"After Transfiguration, he would have had Potions," Head girl Natalie Boyer said with a bit of a smirk. "And he was there, according to Snape," she finished.

Silence reigned throughout the room as everyone stared at the girl, her triumphant smile not revealing any clue of how she had accomplished such a miracle.

"Snape is helping us now?" Cedric asked incredulously.

"Absolutely not," she said, rolling her eyes. "However, the Head boy and girl can access Hogwarts records of points given and taken, provided that it is a matter of student discipline. Obviously, this _is_ a matter of student discipline, so I was able to look, and it turns out that Snape took ten points from Watson for disrupting the lesson."

"Natalie, you are a genius," Harry praised, echoed fervently by several others. "Can you check and see if there were any other times the point record shows those students in class that day?"

"I already checked, that was the only time," she responded. "Well, actually, Larson was given some points in Herbology, but since Sprout is already backing us up, that doesn't really help us."

"But it doesn't hurt," one of the others, a fifth year Ravenclaw named Jessica Knowles, pointed out. "It could be used to prove that Sprout isn't just trying to protect her students after the fact. This proves that he was there, unless they want to accuse Sprout of deliberately colluding in the attacks."

"That's a good point," Cedric said as he jotted the notes down. A few moments of silence followed as he flipped through the pages. "So, that's almost everything. We have at least two people willing to vouch that the students attended classes in most cases. We've only been able to prove Beckett was at one class, but everyone agrees he tends to be a very quiet and private person, so it's unlikely that we'll find anyone that remembers him doing something distinctive enough to stand out and be remembered. It certainly doesn't help that two of his classes that day were Transfiguration and Potions," the blond boy finished.

"I don't think that we should delay reporting our findings any longer," Natalie said. "I wish that we could prove they were all innocent, but there's no guarantee that we'll find better evidence for Beckett if we keep interviewing students. We can show beyond a reasonable doubt that five of the six are innocent. If we do find further evidence supporting Beckett's innocence, we can tell people then. So the question is, how do we report this?"

"My mum says that Fudge is on the warpath about this whole idea. He keeps saying that it's an attack on the ministry for people like us to be challenging the accusations the ministry made against Mark and the others," a fourth year Hufflepuff that Harry didn't really know piped up.

"Given how much flak he's taking, both at home and abroad, that's understandable," one of the others remarked.

Harry suppressed a grin at that. Peter had certainly come through in his attempts to spread the word. Britain was one of the preeminent countries in the ICW, and the wizarding world as a whole. For the leader of such a country to be caught up in a major miscarriage of justice such as this, arresting people with no evidence simply because of their blood status was a juicy scandal that even foreign newspapers were happy to report on. Magical governments like those in France, America and Canada that had a close but somewhat rivalrous relationship with magical Britain were all too happy to fan the flames among their citizens.

"Natalie has a good point," Cedric said. "Even if we were to send it in the Prophet, would they print it?" He looked doubtful. "They've been toeing the ministry line pretty faithfully thus far."

"Shotgun approach," one of the other students called out. "Don't send it to one person. Make copies and send it to everybody we can think of. The Quibbler did a good job with that report on Lockhart a few months ago. They would probably report it. Maybe Teen Witch Weekly would be interested as well. You never know."

"We should also send copies directly to members of the Wizengamot. At least to members who aren't in Fudge or Malfoy's pocket," Neville suggested.

A few other ideas were offered, with Cedric faithfully noting down the recommendations. "Alright," he finally said when the talking died down. "I'll put our separate reports into one complete document tonight. You can all review it tomorrow, and we'll make any changes if needed, then copy and send it out."

"That's going to require a lot of copy paper," Harry pointed out.

"I can buy it," Cedric replied quickly.

"When? How long will that take?" Natalie countered. "Scrivenschaft's in Hogsmeade sells it, but even if you sent them an owl first thing tomorrow, owl orders like that usually take a few days."

"I'll ask Fred and George to sneak out and get it sometime tomorrow. I know they have secret ways in and out of the castle," Harry said. He, of course, could go himself, but best not to let anybody know that Harry Potter was sneaking out of the castle at times. That could lead to some awkward questions.

A few more questions of logistics and timing were raised and answered, then everyone returned to their dorms for the night.

* * *

The furor that the Hogwarts Report, as it came to be called, generated was impressive, to say the least. Even some of the foreign newspapers had picked it up. And that wasn't the only bit of news related to that farce of justice. An internal memo had been leaked from the Ministry, stating that when, not if, the students were found guilty, they were to be sentenced to Azkaban. The memo had been signed by the Minister's Undersecretary, Dolores Umbridge.

Even the Daily Prophet, which had been surprisingly supportive of the ministry during this whole affair, bowed to the population's demands for real news. In fact, to Harry's surprise, they were the first to report that the ICW had announced it would be sending observers to ensure that the trial, which the ministry had finally announced would be held the next week, was fair, and the suspects had not been spelled or coerced in any way to plead guilty. While some people raged at this intrusion by the normally distant ICW, the argument that attacks by the government on muggles or muggleborn put the Statute of Secrecy at risk were enough to silence any objections.

Harry couldn't help but smile as he imagined just how much Fudge must be panicking right now. What he had, no doubt, assumed would be a quick thing to sweep under the rug and forget about was now becoming a scandal that may well end his time as Minister.

* * *

Peter had good news at their meeting a few days later.

"One of my contacts in the ministry was able to get ahold of this," he said, handing a folder holding an official-looking document to Harry.

Harry looked at the document, excitement growing as he read the cover. "The transcript from Black's trial! I thought it was sealed."

"It was," Peter replied dryly, "thus, the 'confidential' stamp on the front. But my contact agreed something suspicious was going on there and was willing to help out."

"Which contact?" Harry asked.

"Henry MacArthur. Retired Auror, now works independently as a Hit Wizard. Not a big fan of the ministry, especially with regards to the war against You-Know-Who. I've actually been thinking about approaching him about joining us."

"I think you've mentioned him before. If you think he'd be willing to, then go for it," Harry replied absentmindedly, still focused on the document in his hands. "Have you read this yet?"

"No, I figured that should be your prerogative. He's your godfather, after all." Peter seemed a little uncomfortable. "But Henry did. I don't know exactly what's in there, but he seemed convinced that you would want to talk after you had read it."

Harry stared at his friend, a shocked look on his face. "He knows you're working with me?"

Now Peter looked unsure. "I really don't know how much he's figured out. He's a smart man, with a background in investigation. He knows that I am working for someone who has an interest in this case. That's a pretty small list. I've tried not to say anything that would suggest your involvement, but I don't know what clues I've accidently given him. He only refers to you as my 'patron' or 'employer', but he seems like the type that wouldn't be pleased with getting involved with unknown people."

Harry thought for a moment, his face pensive. "Set up a meeting with him. If he knows about me, we need to get him to sign a secrecy contract. And having a former Auror on our side would be a big help."

Peter nodded, jotting down a reminder in his notebook.

Harry left the meeting pleased that he was finally getting somewhere in the mystery revolving Sirius Black. That good mood, however, did not last long once he started reading.

The report wasn't particularly long. Not surprisingly, it had been established fairly quickly that Black had been innocent of the crimes he had committed. Given that Harry and Peter had almost literally gift-wrapped the criminal responsible for those crimes, it shouldn't have taken a genius to prove that Black hadn't committed any crimes.

But that was where everything went wrong.

"_Dumbledore_," Harry hissed furiously.

* * *

As expected, the trial of the Hogwarts students was a complete disaster for the ministry. As expected, the prosecution had no real evidence. The testimonies from the 'victims' were completely useless, with none of them able to provide any information that remotely suggested that the six students had committed the attacks. The accused had immediately demanded veritaserum, and, to the complete shock of absolutely nobody, testified that they were innocent. With ICW healers willing to confirm that they had been under the effect of the veritaserum and that they had not been enchanted in any way, there was no hope for the Minister or his pet toad to continue their crusade against the students.

Instead, all six were released immediately with the ministry's 'most sincere regrets', returning to Hogwarts amidst a storm of cheers and applause.

* * *

Harry waited patiently in the private room in the Three Broomsticks, deep in thought. His anger against Dumbledore had cooled. Now, instead of a towering rage urging him to rush to the Headmaster's office and curse the man into oblivion, he felt a cold determination to utterly destroy the man and everything he held dear.

The door opened and Peter entered, followed by a tall, powerfully built man. Harry studied the newcomer closely. His eyes were blue, and very sharp, carefully sweeping across the room with a gleam that made Harry think the man had already noted and analyzed everything in view. He was mostly bald, with just a thin crown of grey hair clinging to the edges. But that didn't take away from the man's intimidating looks. Of course, the scars on his face didn't hurt in that regard.

"Henry, meet my employer, Harry Potter. Harry, this is Henry MacArthur," Peter introduced.

"Glad to see I was right," the tall man said, holding out his hand. "Potter," he said with a considering nod.

"MacArthur," Harry replied evenly with a similar nod as he shook the offered hand. He didn't like being seen as a child. If the man wanted to refer to him by last name only, Harry would do the same back, just like an equal.

The former Auror seemed to be aware of his thoughts, and a small expression that might have been a smile crossed his face. "I'm sure there's a story here about how the Boy-Who-Lived began secretly forming his own little team right under Dumbledore's nose, but the more important questions are what are you trying to accomplish, what do you want me to do, and why should I help you?"

"We're trying to fix magical Britain, we want you to help us primarily by offering your advise and expertise with regards to the Auror department, though I would also like some training in magical combat, given that You-Know-Who is still around in some sort of wraith form and will likely try to kill me at some point, either personally if he regains a body, or through one of his followers. And I don't know enough about you to determine why you would want to help us. But obviously, you are at least willing to consider it, or you wouldn't be here. So, why did you decide to come today, MacArthur?" Harry asked, refusing to be cowed.

"Good, you've got some steel in your spine," the man commented. "I'm here because I don't agree with how things are going in this country, and I think you might be willing to help change them. My discussions with Peter make me think that you've got plans beyond proving Black and those Hogwarts students are innocent. I came to find out if those plans are ones that I can agree with."

"My original goal was to survive. At the end of my first year, I came face to face with You-Know-Who, who survived as some sort of ghost or apparition. He was possessing one of my teachers. Now that I know that he's still around and trying to find a way to regain a body, I need to prepare for if that happens. The ministry's complete incompetence during the last war proves that I can't trust them to win should the Dark Lord make a reappearance. So, I decided I needed to have my own group. And rather than waiting until the enemy is at the gates, we decided to be proactive. If we can eliminate the corruption in the ministry, then they should be more effective if the war ever starts again."

"And why didn't you go to Dumbledore?" MacArthur's face was unreadable, but Harry couldn't help but feel that this was some sort of test.

"Multiple reasons. Dumbledore was no more effective than anyone else, despite having his own private, supposedly secret army. From what I can tell, the only thing the Order actually did was get good people killed. And it doesn't take a genius to see that Dumbledore has his own agenda, which is obviously different from the image he portrays. He paints himself as a champion of truth and justice, and yet, just my experiences in Hogwarts show that he doesn't really care about it. The case with Sirius Black proves that."

MacArthur grunted in agreement. "That was a farce that should never have happened. Almost as bad as the nonsense with those kids."

"I still can't believe that the Wizengamot is going along with holding someone in Azkaban pending investigation," Peter commented.

"Dumbledore suggested it, and a fair few members think that the sun shines out of his arse, so they'd do whatever he said. The Minister supported it, and there's a definite group that follow him closely for various reasons. And Lucius Malfoy wasn't exactly shy in expressing his 'concerns' about his wife's cousin. A lot of the elders are in his pocket, either through bribes or blackmail. With all three of them supporting the idea, those few people on the Wizengamot with both a brain and a conscience didn't have much hope of resisting."

"I know why I don't like Dumbledore. Why don't you?" Harry asked.

"The old goat pays lip service to the law, but he doesn't care about it. One of the last cases I worked was investigating the disappearance of a young man who had just graduated from Hogwarts a few months earlier." MacArthur looked deep in thought, eyeing Harry carefully, before he sighed and continued. "My top suspect was Severus Snape, though I'll admit that there wasn't much evidence. Didn't have a chance to find any, though. I'd been on the case for less than a month when the investigation got shut down for 'lack of progress'. From what I heard, it was Dumbledore who intervened."

"You really think Dumbledore would help cover up a murder?" Harry asked incredulously. Sure, letting the odious man get away with biased point deductions and detention was one thing, but killing a former student seemed like a bit of a stretch.

"To protect his pet Death Eater, I think he just might," the gruff Hitwizard said.

"We've suspected for a while, but do you know for a fact that he's a Death Eater?" Peter asked eagerly.

"Heard it straight from the old fool's mouth," MacArthur replied with a sardonic smile. "You ever hear of Igor Karkaroff?"

"Death Eater from Ukraine, handled most of the training in magical combat for the new recruits. When he was arrested, he claimed that he had been hired under false pretenses to offer tutoring in dueling to a number of wealthy patrons, then was unable to leave when he found out the truth," Peter recounted.

"He was released early because of a combination of pressure from the Ukrainian government and the fact that he snitched on some of his fellow DE's. I was one of the guards during that hearing. Most of the names he had were worthless. They'd already been killed or captured. But he was the first one to identify Augustus Rookwood as a spy. That, alone, was probably enough to earn his freedom. But, he knew one other DE as well, someone else who spent most of his time back at their base."

"Snape," Harry said, realization dawning.

"Yep," MacArthur agreed. "Of course, there was a bit of a stir when Karkaroff said his name. Dumbledore then stood up and said some nonsense about Snape turning to our side. The important thing in my mind, however, was that the old goat openly admitted Snape had been a Death Eater. At the end, Dumbledore suggested that the hearing be classified to prevent people from learning that an Unspeakable like Rookwood had been a Death Eater, but I've always wondered if his real concern was protecting Snape."

Harry thought for a few minutes. There was certainly more to this story that he needed to know. But that could wait for later. "So, to get to the heart of the matter, are you willing to join us?" he asked.

"I think that sounds like a good idea," the old, but obviously still strong man said, raising his glass in a mock toast.

* * *

A/N – Merry Christmas, or Happy Hanukkah, or whatever other holidays you may celebrate!


	20. Chapter 19: End of Innocence

Chapter 19: End of Innocence

Tuesday, May 25th began like any other day. Harry woke up, did some exercises with Neville, showered and got ready for the day. He went down to the Great Hall for breakfast, and that was where everything changed.

Harry stared at the headline on the Daily Prophet, hardly able to believe the words he read, yet unable to refute them. Deep down, he knew that it was the truth.

Rage coursed through his veins. A quick glance showed that Dumbledore was seated at the head table, calmly eating breakfast as though he didn't have a care in the world. Harry wanted to run over there. To scream. To yell. To curse the old man and his stupidly long beard. It was all his fault.

Harry forced himself to take a deep, calming breath. It didn't help. So, he took another. And another. He realized that his hands were shaking, but he couldn't stop them.

Finally, he stood, ignoring the anger still filling him, forcing himself to leave the hall before he did something drastic. He left the paper on the table, headline still visible for anyone looking.

SIRIUS BLACK KILLED ATTEMPTING TO ESCAPE AZKABAN

* * *

The day passed in a blurry haze, Harry barely able to focus on the classes he was attending. All of his thoughts kept going back to his deceased godfather. Some part of him recognized that it was strange for him to be so affected by the death of someone he'd never actually met. A very small, introspective part of him recognized that Black had become the embodiment of his hopes for the future. That once Black had been freed, and managed to obtain custody of Harry, he would be safe from the Dursleys and Dumbledore. Deep down, he knew that what he was really mourning was the loss of this idyllic future. It didn't change how he felt.

Several times, Neville and Hermione asked if he was alright. Even some of the other students that he knew, but had less frequent contact with, such as Fred, George and Katie, were concerned. He couldn't explain everything, so he settled for just responding that he was fine and leaving it at that.

Finally, the day was over. Harry found himself lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The other boys' snores filled the room, but Harry couldn't sleep. His mind was filled with thoughts, just as it had been all day long. And from this jumbled mess of feelings, ideas, and half-formed theories, came one conclusion.

"It was my fault," he whispered softly to the darkness.

Everything he had done with Justice, attacking the Slytherins and the resulting furor, had allowed Fudge and the other corrupt members of the ministry to switch focus away from what had been the top political issue. And given how poorly things had gone for the ministry with the debacle of the trial, it was no wonder that Fudge wanted to avoid another such scandal.

And it could all have been avoided if Harry hadn't decided to lash out at the guilty Slytherins.

Sleep was a long time coming.

* * *

Not surprisingly, the meeting with Peter that week focused primarily on one topic.

"Officially, there is going to be an investigation into his death," Peter said quite sympathetically, but not attempting to hide the harsh truths. "Realistically, however, they're not going to find anything. This is more to reassure the public that Azkaban is safe."

"Safe, unless you're an innocent person thrown in there because you angered the wrong person," Harry retorted bitterly.

Peter nodded, but chose to continue his report rather than responding to Harry's observation. "Fudge's office has already announced their conclusion that Black was, in fact, a Death Eater, even though they haven't offered any evidence to support that claim. The argument seems to be that because he was trying to escape before the investigation could be completed, it is only logical to assume that he knew the Aurors would eventually find something incriminating."

Peter paused for a moment. Harry thought he looked a little uncomfortable. "What is it?" the boy finally asked. "You've obviously got something you don't want to tell me. Just spit it out."

The older man sighed, but nodded. "With the Minister's support, Lucius Malfoy has already filed a motion that he should inherit Black's material assets."

"When does it go before the Wizengamot? Wouldn't I be able to challenge on the basis that I was his godson?" Harry asked.

"The Wizengamot would be making the decision in an ordinary case of someone without a clear inheritor. Since the ministry declared Black to be a Death Eater, there are some old pieces of legislature left over from the war that come into play. In this case, they're using the Inheritance Safeguard Act. It was intended to cut off financial support for the dark lord and his followers by allowing the Ministry to overrule any will left by a deceased death eater, choosing instead to give that money to the nearest relative in good standing. The ministry, of course, has a great deal of flexibility in determining exactly who gets the money," Peter finished cynically.

"But that doesn't have to go through the Wizengamot? Seems odd that they would pass a law like that handing power over to the Ministry. Isn't there usually some tension between the two?"

"Yes, there is. Officially, the Wizengamot is supposed to combat corruption in the ministry, and vice versa. It doesn't work, but there is some residual tension, as you said," Peter agreed. "You're forgetting, however, that this particular law was passed during the war. The Wizengamot wanted to be seen doing something to stop a very real problem, but they were too afraid of possible reprisals to want to be connected to it directly. This allowed them to say that they supported measures to cut off funding, but it would be some unfortunate flunky in the ministry who got the blame if the dark lord decided to retaliate."

"So now, without any real evidence that Black ever committed a crime, a real Death Eater is using this leftover bit of law to steal all of his money," Harry summarized angrily.

"Yes," Peter replied simply. "In the long run, we may be able to prove malfeasance, allowing the Wizengamot to intervene, but that would be difficult without something major to prove the law was improperly enforced. You will probably never be able to satisfactorily prove that Black wasn't a Death Eater, so the best chance would be to prove that Lucius Malfoy was one. Getting people to listen, however, will not be easy." Peter thought for a moment. "Short of catching him red-handed, I'm not sure what it would take."

Harry nodded, frustrated, but not surprised. "I don't care how long it takes. Somehow, I'm going to prove that my godfather was innocent, and that Malfoy and Fudge are the guilty ones," he vowed. "And Dumbledore, too," he realized. "It was his fault that Sirius was being held in Azkaban at all."

"I had a feeling that you were going to say something like that," Peter said with a small smile.

"I realize that this isn't what you originally signed on for," Harry began, but Peter cut him off.

"Yes, this particular job hasn't turned out as I expected. But, it needs to be done. I didn't expect this much corruption. It's one thing for a government to be ineffective in fighting a, to be honest, very powerful yet elusive foe. That's a problem, but something that can be dealt with by eliminating the enemy. For the government itself to be involved in such corruption that they arrest innocent people and kill them rather than letting the truth be known is unacceptable. My boys are magical. They'll be heading to Hogwarts in a few years. I don't want them to enter a society like the current one. So, I'll help you fight."

"Thank you," Harry said genuinely.

"Unfortunately," Peter began, "that's not going to be easy. It's going to take more people than we currently have, and it's going to take money."

"Which I can't currently access, thanks to Dumbledore," Harry finished. "Have you had any luck with the Philosopher's Stone?" he asked.

"I got Chad to take a look, but he didn't have a clue. I haven't had any success. And to be honest, I've been wondering about the whole idea of the Philosopher's Stone for a few months now."

"Wondering about it…" Harry prompted.

"As you know, the Philosopher's Stone is said to have two primary functions. It produces the Elixir of Life, and it can be used to transmute lead into gold. Apart from Nicholas Flamel, there have been no reports of anyone ever successfully achieving either objective. One commonly accepted maxim in magical theory is that accomplishing two unrelated tasks simultaneously is _at least_ as difficult as accomplishing them separately. In potions, it's called Golpalott's Law. In transfiguration, it's Chindwithle's Law. Herbology has the Pertwynn Principle. But it all boils down to the same general idea."

"Doing two things at once is harder than doing them separately," Harry mused, realization dawning. "And creating an object that can do two unrelated things, such as making gold and bestowing eternal life, when nobody else has ever accomplished either one, is shockingly unlikely."

"Exactly. I don't think the stone is real. Either it's a cover for separate inventions that actually do what Flamel claims, or he's been straight-up lying to everybody for centuries. It's possible that the person we call Flamel isn't even the real Nicholas Flamel. Like the Dread Pirate Roberts," he said.

"Dread Pirate Roberts?" Harry asked, completely confused.

Peter shook his head. "It's from a movie, but you get the point."

Harry groaned. "The point is that it's useless for us."

"Precisely."

"So, we have no way to get more money," Harry concluded.

"The object we call the Philosopher's Stone will not help us get money," Peter said. "But I do have another idea. With everything happening with the Chamber of Secrets, I took some time to research a little more. Much of it is nothing more than rumor and myth, obscured by the mists of time, but there is enough substance there to get an idea of the truth behind the legend. There was supposed to be a creature in the Chamber of Secrets. I believe it to be a Basilisk."

Harry nodded slowly. "I'd come to the same conclusion," he replied. "I know that it's a snake, because I heard it during detention with Lockhart, and the only snake I could find with powers close to that was the Basilisk. Don't know why it petrifies instead of killing, though," he added.

"It could be some modification done by Slytherin before he put it in the school, or it could be that nobody has looked it in the eye directly. They just saw its reflection."

"Either way, I still don't understand what that has to do with our current situation," Harry stated.

"Basilisks are extremely rare, but can be used to make very potent potions. And this particular Basilisk is very old, which increases the potency. I did some investigating to determine the value of Basilisk parts, and I would not be surprised to discover that the carcass of this particular Basilisk would be worth hundreds of thousands of galleons. Maybe more."

Harry felt his jaw drop in shock. "That's a lot of money," he said in amazement.

"It's a one-thousand-year-old basilisk," Peter replied. "According to my research, they never stop growing. Of course, we need to find it and kill it first. But if we can do that, we should have plenty of money to keep us going for years."

Harry nodded. "So how do we find something that has been hidden for centuries?"

Peter smiled triumphantly. "But, it hasn't really been hidden, has it? It attacked people, both this year, and fifty years ago. And when I investigated the attacks, I noticed something interesting. Despite there being more than half a dozen attacks, the only one who was killed was a girl named Myrtle Warren. She was killed in the girls' bathroom on the second floor."

"Where Mrs. Norris was attacked on Halloween," Harry added in surprise.

"Exactly. And that's not the only coincidence. The other attacks were clearly staged. The person was attacked, and then moved to the location they were found. Investigators at the time believed that it was to help conceal the culprit's identity, but I wonder if there was another reason," Peter said as he pulled out a map of Hogwarts with some writing on it.

"I wasn't able to find out the exact locations of the other attacks, but I have the general area, usually identified in terms of which hallway on which floor. Sometimes the report was more specific, stating a particular alcove or something to that effect. And what I found is that the location where the people were found was all centered on that bathroom."

"Look," he instructed as he pointed to a red dot on the map. "This is the bathroom where Myrtle Warren was killed. That was the only attack on the second floor. I copied this point on to the other floors, so we could see where the bathroom would be. There was one attack on the seventh floor," he gestured to a blue dot which was in a corner, about as far from the red dot as possible, "where the victim was found a great deal away from the where the bathroom would be."

Harry studied the map closely. "Two attacks on the fifth floor," he mused, "both closer to the bathroom than the attack on the seventh floor."

"On those two attacks, I was unable to find anything to locate specifically where the victim was found. It could be that the distance was the same, accurate down to a few metres."

"And the pattern holds true all the way?" Harry asked, still staring intently at the map.

Peter nodded, even though Harry wasn't looking. "Fourth floor, one attack. Closer still. Third floor, it gets even closer. In fact, the attacks on the first and third floors were almost perfectly aligned, just on different floors. And the victim in the basement was placed at a location almost the same distance from the bathroom as the attack on the fourth floor, though it was on the south side of the building, instead of the north."

"You think Voldemort deliberately left clues that would lead to the basilisk?" Harry asked incredulously. The evidence was right in front of him, but he still had a hard time believing it. "Why on earth would he do that?"

Peter shrugged. "Without knowing his goal for the attacks, we may never know. If your parents are correct and Tom Riddle really was Voldemort, then he was an orphan without any real prospects in life. Maybe this was part of his plan to build a better future for himself. Stage some attacks, and then he notices the pattern and kills the basilisk. He gets a fortune from selling the carcass and a great deal of fame for saving the students from the monster."

"But he didn't go through with it," Harry objected.

"Like I said, this is all guesswork on my part. Maybe that was never his plan. Or maybe it was, but after a student was killed, he didn't want anything that might connect him to the crimes, for fear that people would be taking a closer look, and might grow suspicious."

"You know, it occurs to me that a witness to the attacks might have more information than all these secondhand accounts," Harry commented as an idea came to mind. "I wonder what Moaning Myrtle would be able to tell us."

* * *

While Harry was planning how to approach the specter haunting the girls' bathroom, he was, himself, approached by someone he had not expected.

"I noticed that you had seemed a little out of sorts during class these past few days, and I wanted to check that everything was alright," Lupin said, his voice warm.

"As well as one can be after learning that their godfather, despite being innocent, was held prisoner and killed by the ministry," Harry retorted.

Lupin seemed taken aback by this blunt statement. "I'm sorry for your loss," he said, somewhat hesitantly. "I must admit that I find myself somewhat surprised that you have been so affected. Had you ever actually met Sirius Black?"

"No," Harry replied. "Unlike you, or any of my parents' other friends, I never had that opportunity."

There was a definite pause, and Harry took a small amount of pleasure in the shock and momentary panic that was evident on Lupin's face.

"You know… about that?" he finally asked.

"Get Hagrid talking, and he can't keep his mouth shut. He told me all sorts of things about my parents while they were in school. And isn't it amusing how often your name came up?" Harry's voice made it clear that he didn't find it amusing at all. "Were you ever going to tell me that you knew them?"

"I thought it would be best for you not to have to worry about that sort of thing with one of your professors," the man tried to explain.

"Yes, because why would an orphan want to learn more about his parents from one of their friends?" came the sarcastic reply.

"I thought it might be better to just let the past lie, rather than opening up old wounds," Lupin stated weakly.

"Better for you, or better for me?" Harry retorted. "I have to admit, I'm beginning to wonder just how good of a friend you really were. You don't want to reconnect with your friends' son, even just to see how he's been. And from what I can see, you don't even care that one of your friends was just murdered by the government, with assistance from your hero Albus Dumbledore."

"The headmaster had nothing to do with it," Lupin protested.

"He was the one who suggested in the trial that Black be held until an investigation could be conducted to ensure that he wasn't guilty of any other crimes," Harry responded flatly. "So yes, he did, in fact, have something to do with it."

Lupin seemed at a loss for words, but rallied himself. "I'm sure that Dumbledore was doing what he felt was best. Sirius was a… complicated individual. He had a dark side that may not have been evident in Hagrid's stories."

"The ministry couldn't even find something to charge him with, and yet you're still willing to condemn him. What dark side could he have had that would justify being held in Azkaban without even being accused of a crime?"

"A number of his actions during his time here at Hogwarts take on a different light given later events," Lupin began, but was cut off by Harry.

"Later events like being framed for crimes he didn't commit, and being falsely imprisoned. If anything, shouldn't it be Peter Pettigrew's actions that take on a different light?"

"Both," Lupin admitted. "While we all enjoyed pranks, the two of them frequently pushed for harsher, more painful pranks. In fifth year, Sirius took that to an unthinkable level, with a prank that nearly killed another student. There are things that I cannot tell you, but I assure you that the Headmaster had legitimate reason to be concerned about Sirius' actions."

"I assume that this 'prank' had something to do with the fact that you're a werewolf?" Harry asked nonchalantly.

This startled Lupin more than anything previously in the conversation. "How… how did you know?" he whispered hoarsely.

"You're always sick on the full moons, and your boggart turns into a full moon. It wasn't tough to figure out," Harry responded flatly. A slightly malicious grin spread across his face. "I did warn you that a person's deepest fears were personal and could reveal things that ought to be kept private."

This time, Lupin took longer to compose himself before continuing. "Yes, as you surmised, it did have something to do with my lycanthropy. The headmaster had arranged for me to attend school here, despite the many obstacles that lay in the way. Every month during the full moon, I was escorted by Madam Pomfrey to the Whomping Willow, which guarded a secret tunnel to the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade, where I could transform without hurting anyone."

Lupin's face contorted, and his voice betrayed the anger he felt as he continued. "Severus had always been a bit of an adversary, and Sirius used that. He told Severus how to open the tunnel. Fortunately, your father learned what Black had done, and rescued Severus. Had Severus made it all the way to the shack, he would have found a fully transformed werewolf. He would have been killed, and I would likely have been executed. Sirius Black, of course, didn't care about that. Even after his actions came to light, he still felt that he had done nothing wrong. So, yes, I do feel that it was acceptable for the headmaster to take whatever steps were necessary to ensure that he was truly innocent."

"I think you're wrong, but I also realize that there is nothing I can say that will change your mind," Harry replied as he left.

* * *

Getting the information out of Moaning Myrtle was easier than Harry had imagined. His cover story of wanting to write a book about the Ghosts of Hogwarts was completely unnecessary. Instead, Myrtle had been enthusiastic, even ecstatic to share the details of her demise with the boy.

"She heard hissing, exited the stall, saw yellow eyes and died," Harry summarized for the group the next night. Chad and Henry MacArthur were there as well, given that this was a difficult task that might require all of their efforts.

"Hissing is probably parseltongue," MacArthur said gruffly. "It might have been commanding the snake, or it might have been opening the chamber."

"There is a sink in that bathroom that has never worked. That sink has a small engraving of a snake on it," Harry reported with a smile. "I think that's the entrance. If we can distract Moaning Myrtle, we might be able to open it."

"Not if it requires parseltongue," Chad objected.

"I'm a parselmouth," Harry said, trying to hide the discomfort he felt at admitting something like that.

"That's convenient," the American said. "And kind of cool. Is it really an automatic thing? Like, you don't even have to think about it, you just understand what the snake says, and can talk back to it?"

"You can ask questions like that later," MacArthur interjected. "Now, we need to concentrate on our plan." He turned back to Harry. "So, you may be able to open the Chamber. What then?"

"There isn't anywhere near that area of the school that could house a basilisk, and space expansion charms only go so far. It seems unlikely that the hidden entrance opens directly into the Chamber. More likely, it opens into a tunnel which does lead to the Chamber. If that's the case, Harry could leave the vanishing cabinet I currently have at my house in the tunnel, allowing us to access it whenever we want."

"And if that isn't the case. Suppose Potter opens it and comes face to face with a basilisk?"

"Then I fall over dead," Harry countered. "I'll keep my eyes closed and listen for any sound of the basilisk. If there is a hint that something is going wrong, I'll get out of there and we can call for help."

The old hitwizard still didn't seem completely convinced, but didn't offer any more objections. "As long as the goal is just to get the vanishing cabinet in place so that we can come up with a better plan later, I'm fine with it. I just don't want us to underestimate one of the top predators in the world."

"So, how do we distract Myrtle?" Chad asked. "And am I the only one that thinks 'Moaning Myrtle' sounds like a nickname you'd give a porn star?" As the others turned to look at him, he shrugged. "Just an observation."

"I could get Peeves to do it, but I don't think I want to rely on him to keep quiet about something like this," Harry said, ignoring Chad's other comment.

"If I recall correctly, ghosts celebrate their deathdays," Peter said thoughtfully. "And this year would be the fiftieth anniversary of Myrtle's death. A celebration with her as guest of honor would certainly give us a window of opportunity."

"For all I know, the ghosts might have something planned already. If not, it wouldn't be difficult to arrange," Harry mused. "I'll talk with Nearly Headless Nick, and make sure that we have our distraction ready. She died on June 13th, I think. That gives us a little more than a week to prepare."

* * *

Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington was, as always, the embodiment of Gryffindor chivalry. Upon learning (or perhaps, being reminded) of the significance of the upcoming date for the ghost who had been so tragically cut down in the very halls (or bathroom) of Hogwarts, he immediately set forth to provide a celebration worthy of such a special occasion for the ghostly girl. From what Harry overheard, it sounded like what this really meant was that Nick had grandiose ideas, and the genial Fat Friar of Hufflepuff did the real work. But the end result was the same.

Harry attended the party for about an hour, accompanied by Neville, Hermione and, to his surprise, Luna, who had apparently heard about the party from the Ravenclaw ghost and thought it would be a fascinating research opportunity.

As the four left the party, he separated from the others, claiming a need to use the restroom, and that there was no need to wait for him. Checking the map to ensure that he was alone, Harry slipped into the vacant restroom and hurried over to the sink. He'd been practicing in Timeland, so there was no hesitation as he focused on the small snake engraving. Imagining it as a real snake, he spoke. _"Open,"_ he hissed, the first choice in a long list of ideas for possible passwords, if such was necessary. To his delight, he heard a grinding noise, and the tap glowed with a brilliant white light and began to spin. The sink disappeared, leaving a large pipe, its pitch black interior giving no clue of what lay inside.

Harry grabbed his bag of rope, and attached the free end to the wall, then positioned himself in the pipe, and gave the command to slowly let rope out. Down and down he went, until he was sure that he must be below even the dungeons. Eventually, the pipe turned and leveled out, and Harry found himself standing in a large cave, with small bones littering the ground at his feet.

Remembering his promise to MacArthur not to take any unnecessary risks, he quickly expanded the trunk holding the cabinet and levitated it out onto the floor, positioning it inside a small nook in the cave wall. He then grabbed the rope and allowed it to pull him back up to the, fortunately, still empty lavatory. A few quick cleaning charms erased any evidence of his little detour.

* * *

Sneaking out of the dorm that night was easy, especially after all the practice he'd had over the past year. Peter, Chad and Henry were waiting just outside of Hogsmeade. Their greetings were quick, and quiet. Everyone knew what they were doing, and understood the risks, even though they had prepared as best they could.

Harry expanded the trunk to Timeland, and they all climbed in, then used the other pair of vanishing cabinets to travel to the one he had left in the cave. There was a small moment of panic when they saw a shed skin, but fortunately it turned out to be a false alarm.

"It's going to be even bigger than that," MacArthur warned everyone. "Get that in your heads now. Don't want anybody losing their mind when we need to be focusing."

None of the others responded, but it was easy to see that the reality of what they faced was finally sinking in.

The group had brought more than a dozen lanterns to ensure plenty of light. Though they found the door leading into the actual Chamber fairly quickly, Henry insisted that they explore the rest of the cavern as well, to ensure that there wouldn't be any surprised. It didn't take long.

"Are you ready to open this thing?" the old hitwizard asked.

"Assuming there isn't some sort of password," Harry responded. "In the bathroom, all I had to say was 'open'. Hopefully that works here as well."

"Slytherin, the ultimate embodiment of cunning, used 'open' for the password into his secret lair?" Chad asked mockingly.

"It would probably respond to anything in parseltongue," Peter said, rolling his eyes.

"Let's hope that works here," Harry commented before turning back to the door.

"Everyone get ready," MacArthur barked, and the others drew their wands.

"_Open,"_ Harry hissed, and, as he had hoped, the serpents on the wall parted, leaving the way clear.

Everyone waited with baited breath, senses straining for any indication that the basilisk was waiting for them. After several seconds, MacArthur walked into the room slowly, a lantern in one hand, wand in the other, ready to cast at anything that moved.

"It's clear," he announced after a few minutes.

Harry walked in, staring in amazement at the scene around him. Large stone pillars decorated with carved snakes rose up to support the ceiling, so far above that it was almost invisible. An eerie, green glow filled the massive room.

"Good thing we brought so many lanterns," Chad remarked as he entered the room.

"Get exploring. No surprises," MacArthur said, but his attention was clearly focused on the end of the hall, where a massive statue loomed.

Despite the unsettling décor, there was nothing to be found in the Chamber. More than once, Harry felt a prickling on the back of his neck he'd always associated with being watched, but there was nobody else there. And finally, the four gathered at the giant, stone feet of the statue.

"I think it's in here," MacArthur said.

"In the statue?" Peter asked.

Chad nodded. "I can detect a spell that is similar to one we use for vocal commands. My guess is that when the appropriate password is given, the statue somehow opens to release the basilisk." He gestured to a broom lying on the floor. "I flew up to investigate closer, and from what I can tell, I think the opening is in the head."

"Probably the mouth," MacArthur said. "Like the Dark Mark. A snake coming out of a mouth. It may be where he got the idea."

"So, how do we figure out the password? I don't think that 'open' is going to work this time," Harry commented.

"There are diagnostic spells that I can use on the enchantment to see what it responds to. Typically, as a starting point, I would use spells to see how many syllables the password has. But, since this password is probably in parseltonue, I don't have any ideas. Unless we want me to teach Harry the necessary spells, and have him try to figure out," Chad finished.

"We should just cut our way in," Henry said.

"Let me try something," Chad said as he looked at the wall thoughtfully. Peter stepped out of the way, making a small gesture.

Chad spent a few minutes casting spells, even climbing onto his broom to cast higher up. When he returned to the ground, he had a triumphant smile on his face. "I used a spell I learned from a cursebreaker that uses a sort of magical echolocation to see what's beyond a wall. At about the level of the statue's head, there is a large opening behind the wall. It's only about five feet of stone, and while the statue has charms to protect it from damage, the wall has no such protections. We should be able to use a stone-cutting spell to tunnel in."

"It's a good idea, but we need to get ready," MacArthur replied, then began issuing commands. "Bring that cabinet in here, put it off to one side in case we need to make a quick escape. Seal off the statue's mouth so the snake can't get out. We'll make the tunnel just large enough for a rooster so it can't get out that way."

"What if there's another way out?" Harry asked.

"Nothing we can do about it. We'll just seal this one exit, that's all we can do."

Preparations went quickly. A heavy steel chain had been wrapped around the head several times, under the chin the prevent the mouth opening, and in front of it, to stop the snake getting out if the mouth did open. The cabinet was carefully positioned in a cranny between the statue and the wall, which would theoretically make it difficult for the massive basilisk to get at it. Harry just hoped that they wouldn't have to put that theory to the test.

Cutting the small tunnel in the wall went quickly. "We're through," Chad announced as he dropped the sonar spell he had been using.

Casting a sonorous charm, MacArthur grabbed the first of the roosters and removed the bag from its head. Seeing the light that filled the room, the rooster crowed, the sound magically enhanced by the spell, almost to the point of pain.

Harry felt a thrill of shock and excitement as a loud thump sounded from the wall, seeming to rattle the entire chamber. Another followed, and another. Harry could just imagine the basilisk thrashing in its prison as the rooster's crow did its deadly work.

Finally, after at least ten minutes, the basilisk stopped battering the walls.

"Is that it? Is it dead?" Harry asked, unable to stop himself even though he knew that nobody else had any more information than he did.

"No sense taking chances," MacArthur said as he pulled the bag off the head of another rooster (the sixth thus far).

When no further sign of life had been detected after another five minutes of crowing, the former hitwizard decided that was enough. He pushed the rooster into the tunnel, using minor stinging hexes to force it into the basilisk's lair. Even after several minutes, the rooster could be heard moving around in the lair.

"So, either the basilisk is dead, or it left," Peter vocalized what they were all thinking.

"Expand the tunnel. I'll go in first," MacArthur said.

Harry swallowed deeply, trying to suppress the fear he felt as the old man disappeared into the inky blackness. Soon enough, light emanated from the hole, and he heard a familiar voice.

"You can come in, it's dead," the gruff man said.

Harry flew through the short passageway, and entered to find a breathtaking sight. The basilisk, larger than he had ever imagined possible, lay in its den, the vivid green scales glistening in the lantern light. Its mouth was slightly open, giving Harry a glimpse of fangs as long as his arm. He couldn't help the shiver that traveled down his back at the thought of facing a monster like this alone and unprepared.

"Holy…" Chad's voice trailed off as he stared at the carcass of the beast in front of them.

"That's even bigger than I had imagined it would be," Peter said, shocked.

"Should give us plenty of money to work with for the next few years," MacArthur stated with satisfaction.

"Or the next few centuries," Chad replied under his breath.

"Let's get it into the box," Peter said, as he resized a shrunken wooden crate to its normal size. "Sooner we're done, sooner we get out of here."

The interior had been expanded, but it was still a tight fight. As they all returned to the hill outside of Hogsmeade, Harry's mind kept going back to the basilisk, amazed at just how large the terrifying creature had been. He was just grateful that things had gone so smoothly.

Saying 'goodbye' after an incredible adventure like that seemed anti-climactic, but it had to happen. They each went their own way, Harry returning to Hogwarts quickly, noting in surprise that the entire experience had taken less than four hours.

Now, it would just be a question of how much they got for the basilisk carcass. Ideas for how to use the money flew through Harry's mind as he lay in bed, still unable to sleep.

And through it all, one thought was always there, lurking in the background.

The Ministry and the Wizengamot would pay for what they did to Harry's godfather.

* * *

A/N – Happy New Year!

I imagine that some people will be upset that I killed Sirius, but I don't think there was really any way that he was getting out. Too many people on too many sides wanted him gone. If they had known how Harry would respond, they might have found a different way…


	21. Chapter 20: Dreams and Schemes

Chapter 20: Dreams and Schemes

"Hello, Professor Lupin," Harry said, his voice neutral.

"Hello, Mister Potter," the prematurely aged professor returned, his voice calm and respectful. "I was surprised to get your letter. You have a beautiful owl, by the way."

"Thank you. Hedwig was a gift from Hagrid when I first learned about the Wizarding World. The first gift I ever received, in fact, given that the relatives on whose doorstep Dumbledore dropped me during the middle of the night without so much as a by your leave were not terribly enthused at the prospect of raising a… 'freak' like me, as they were fond of saying." Harry took no small amount of joy in the expression of regret and anger that crossed Lupin's face. "But that's not what I wanted to talk with you about," the boy finished.

Harry walked out of the doors, and began to make his way over toward the Whomping Willow. "You see, I've been giving quite a bit of thought to the story that you told me about when Sirius Black tried to get Snape killed, and it occurs to me that there are a few problems with it." He smiled grimly. "Things that just don't make sense, and, in my opinion, really change your perspective on what happened, if you take the time to think about it."

The boy turned to face his teacher. "To start with, you seem to have a great deal of respect for Dumbledore, probably because he allowed you to attend Hogwarts. Is that correct?"

"Yes," the man said, sounding almost fervent. "As a werewolf, there was no hope for me to attend, but the headmaster made arrangements, going to great lengths to make it possible."

"I checked, and from what I can tell, this tree was brought here the year you began. Quite a costly endeavor, to transplant such a large and, frankly, ferocious tree."

"It was necessary to guard the entrance to the tunnel," Lupin explained. "So you see how much Dumbledore did for me."

"I think there could have been easier ways to guard the entrance, but that's not my point. You were a werewolf before you began Hogwarts, which means that you must have had a safe place to transform before you came to school, right?"

"Yes, my father built a secure room in the basement," Lupin replied, confused.

"And the school is connected to the floo network," Harry pointed out. "It would have been much easier, not to mention less expensive, for Dumbledore to just have you floo home at the full moons. But that's not what I really wanted to talk about."

Lupin opened his mouth to respond, but Harry cut him off. "You said that Snape was an adversary during your time at Hogwarts. Could you please clarify that statement?"

The professor seemed taken aback for a moment, before gathering his thoughts and responding. "There were pranks, of course, on both sides. Severus also frequently tried to get us in trouble by revealing some of our, uh, extra-curricular activities."

Harry nodded. "I suspected as much. Now, you said that Madam Pomfrey escorted you to the Whomping Willow each full moon, correct?" The professor nodded, and the boy continued. "So, it obviously wasn't an, as you put it, extra-curricular activity that you were engaged in. You were being accompanied by a member of the school's faculty."

Lupin seemed a little confused. "Yes, I suppose that's true, but it doesn't change what Black did," he pointed out.

"We'll get there," the younger Gryffindor assured the elder. "But first, let's consider Snape for a moment longer. Snape is a Slytherin. Cunning, of course, being one of their primary traits. And do you feel that Snape embodies that particular trait?"

"I suppose so," Lupin replied, his voice thoughtful, but a bit bewildered.

"And would you describe Black as being particularly cunning?"

"No, he was probably the most brash of all of us," Lupin replied immediately. "Even more so than James," the professor finished with a fond smile.

"And Black and Snape were enemies," Harry asserted. "There was no possibility of them secretly being friends?" Lupin shook his head. "They weren't allies of any sort?" Again, the professor shook his head. "Star-crossed lovers?" Harry suggested. This time, Lupin actually scoffed at the notion.

Harry pressed on. "So, I'm wondering what Black could have _possibly_ said to Snape to convince him to leave the Slytherin dorms in the middle of the night, come all the way out here, and go into the secret tunnel all by himself. What was Snape expecting would happen? Even without the presence of a werewolf, the best the greasy git could have hoped for was to spend the rest of the night hanging upside down while you all drew embarrassing words or pictures on his face. And Snape, being a cunning Slytherin, really should have known that. Even if you were doing something inappropriate, he would have found himself outnumbered four to one."

Lupin's frowned. "Well, obviously Sirius was more convincing than I would have expected," he replied, but it was clear that he didn't entirely believe his own words.

"Was Snape a prefect?" Harry asked. He didn't need to wait for Lupin to shake his head to know the answer, so he continued. "And he didn't bring a member of the faculty, so how was he planning on getting you in trouble?"

Lupin said nothing, but his frown deepened.

"Now, you said that the tunnel was under the Whomping Willow. There must be some way to stop the tree and open the tunnel, then, correct?"

"Yes, you press one of the knots on the tree," the grey-haired man stated.

"No spell?" Harry was surprised. "That makes this even more suspicious. Look around," he instructed, and Lupin did so. "There's the Whomping Willow," the boy said, pointing. "And look how much cover there is around here," he continued, gesturing to the ample foliage that surrounded them. "It would be very easy for someone to hide and find out how to open the tunnel. You said that Snape was always trying to get you in trouble, right?"

Lupin didn't answer for a moment. "Yes, he was…" his voice trailed off as he stared into the distance. "He was always interested in where I went each month."

"And that doesn't seem suspicious?" Harry pressed. "I figured out that you were a werewolf without even trying," he lied, "but you think Snape couldn't work it out after years of trying to figure what you were up to?"

"But then, why would he come down into the tunnel? If he knew what I was, he would have known how dangerous it was," Lupin argued.

"I think you know the answer to that question," Harry said calmly. "It's not illegal to kill a transformed werewolf, especially if it poses a threat to yourself or another person. Snape could have killed you without any punishment."

Despite it seeming so obvious to Harry, it seemed that Lupin had never actually considered this possibility. "No," he replied immediately. "There would have been some sort of punishment," he said.

"From who? The Wizengamot wouldn't have punished him. It's stated in the law. It's not illegal to kill a transformed werewolf," the boy repeated.

"Dumbledore would have…" Lupin began, but Harry cut him off.

"Snape claimed that Black led him there as part of a prank. Tell me, who was punished, Snape or Black? Snape chose to sneak out at night without alerting any proper authority. Did he receive any sort of punishment for that?"

"Dumbledore made him agree to keep my secret," Lupin replied.

"It would have been far safer to go with obliviation, but either way, that's not a punishment. So, I'll ask again. Did Snape receive any sort of punishment?"

"To the best of my knowledge, no," came the response.

"And was Black punished?"

This time, there was a pause. "A month of detention," Lupin finally answered, his voice little more than a whisper.

"So, why would we assume that it would have been any different had Snape been successful?" Harry asked hotly, his anger growing at Lupin's refusal to see the unpleasant truth staring him in the face.

"You think Severus was trying to kill me." It was a statement, not a question, but Harry answered anyway.

"Yes, I think he was," the boy said bluntly. "Now, is it possible that Black really intended for Snape to be killed? Yes, it is. But it's equally possible that Snape made some sort of comment about you and your regular disappearances, and Black was worried that he was close to discovering your secret," the boy theorized. "So, he mentioned the tree, hoping that when Snape explored it, you all could prank him, and then he would think that the whole thing had been just a set-up to lure him out. After all, at any other time, it wouldn't have been a problem for Snape to go into that tunnel. And when Black told my dad what he had planned, my dad realized that if Snape explored that very night, he would run into you, something that Black hadn't considered."

Lupin made no reply, instead continuing to stare out across the grounds. His face, however, made it clear what he was thinking.

"I find it amazing that you are so quick to believe the worst about your friend, and yet you completely ignore the obviously suspicious actions of a known enemy," Harry concluded. There was still no response, but Harry wasn't really expecting one. "I'll leave you to your thoughts," he said as he began to walk back to the castle.

* * *

With the exception of the floo network, a very difficult spell called the patronus charm, or rare and expensive magical objects, communication in the magical world was surprisingly slow. Harry had begun trying to learn the patronus charm, but wasn't having much luck, which is why he was so grateful for Chad's enchanting abilities. The American may have a bit of an odd sense of humor, but he certainly came through for them. And as he studied this latest piece of technomagery, Harry couldn't help but think that the man had gone above and beyond.

The small black device was about the size of Harry's pinky, with a little bud that was obviously meant to go in the ear, and a plastic loop to secure the object. He put it up to his ear, fiddling with the loop for a bit to ensure that it was held comfortably in place.

"Connect group," he said clearly. And within just a few seconds, he could hear the other members of his little organization.

"Good morning, everyone," he began. "Let's do a quick check to make sure that we're all here, and everyone's communicator is working. Peter?"

"I'm here, and can hear loud and clear," the man responded.

"Chad," Harry said.

"Here," the technomancer said.

"Henry?"

"Here," came the gruff reply.

"Excellent. Thank you all for joining me today, especially at such an early hour. Or a late one, I suppose, for Peter over in New York. I don't want to take much time, but we do need to get a report from Peter on the auction for the basilisk carcass, and I'd like us to have a plan for what we do over the summer. I'm heading home today, and I don't know what my situation will be like back at the Dursleys, which is why we're having the meeting now. Peter, can we get your report?"

Peter's voice came through crisp and clean, revealing his excitement as he spoke. "As I had previously said, in order to ensure that the basilisk was as fresh as possible, a special auction was held for the carcass. In fact, rather than selling off the whole carcass as one unit, it was rendered down, with individual organs and fluids such as the blood or venom sold independently. Given that it ended just a few hours ago, I have not yet received full payment, but the total amount, after the auction house takes it cut, comes to the equivalent of 1.92 million galleons."

For a moment, a complete, almost deafening silence reigned, with exclamations of shock following soon after.

"1.92 million…" Harry choked out.

"Yes," Peter confirmed. "But, I should point out, the actual payment will be in a wide range of currencies, with less than one hundred eighty thousand of it in galleons. We can, of course, convert it all to galleons, but that will be very noticeable. It may draw the attention of the ministry, so I think that, for now, we should keep the currencies that we are given, and look for opportunities to buy anything we need in foreign markets. It helps to ensure that our efforts go undetected."

"That's a good idea," MacArthur stated. "The ministry does keep an eye on currency exchanges."

"Okay, we'll do that," Harry agreed. "Out of curiosity, what currency will we be getting the most of?"

"American magicoins," Peter promptly replied. "Not surprising, given that the auction was held on short notice here in New York."

"Good to know," Harry said. "And this ties in to the next thing I wanted to talk about, our plans going forward. We've got plenty of money, so what are we going to use it on?"

"I think we need to start a newspaper," Chad said instantly. "We obviously can't rely on the Prophet, and smaller newspapers and magazines like Teen Witch Weekly and the Quibbler aren't sufficient. If we had a paper of our own, we could inform the citizens directly anytime we discover proof of corruption."

"Telling the people is good," MacArthur began, "but it's not going to be enough. You want to change the government, you'll need to have force on your side. And that's not considering the threat of You-Know-Who's return. Start hiring and training people now. Build yourself an army."

"Are we allowed to create a private army like that?" Harry wondered.

"No, of course not," the old hitwizard said. "But you are allowed to create a private security force. You could claim that it is an elite bodyguard service. There's no restriction on how many people you could employ, as long as you pay the appropriate taxes on your earnings. Create one company that handles your assets, and another company that is employed to protect those assets. Even if you own both, the companies are still independent. Magical law relating to businesses is an absolute mess."

"Which brings up another idea. We need more people in on our conspiracy. Someone with experience with magical law, and perhaps business law in particular, would be very helpful," Peter suggested. "I'd also like to increase the number of contacts we have in the ministry. With the fiasco over the Hogwarts students, Fudge lost a lot of support even inside the ministry itself."

"We should find out who leaked that memo from the undersecretary," Harry mused. "Whoever they are, they must have high level access."

"We'd also need someone with knowledge of warding," Chad pointed out. "If we're creating a secret army, they'll need a base, and that requires defenses. Better that we can handle that ourselves, rather than hiring some other company."

"An excellent point," MacArthur agreed. "And not just for the base. Establishing a network of safe houses is just a good idea if we're expecting any sort of trouble, be it from DE's or the ministry."

"I'd like us to explore more with various magical devices," Harry said thoughtfully. "Both for combat, and for daily use. Just imagine how popular these communicators would be."

"The more nodes you add, the more complex the system gets," Chad warned. "But I'm sure I could come up with an alternate system that would allow as many users as you wanted."

"Regardless, if we have cool new products that people want to buy, that will help them to come around to our way of thinking, while decreasing funding for supporters of the status quo," Peter pointed out.

The discussion continued for some time before Harry decided it was time to call a halt.

"So, to summarize. Peter will continue looking for additional people to join our inner group, with particular focus on people with knowledge of magical law and warding, as well as contacts in the ministry. Henry will concentrate on a private security force that can double as a small army if needed. And Chad will be focused on a magical newspaper, and developing some technomancy products for sale," Harry summarized. "Please be prepared to report your progress at our next meeting. Is there anything else we need to discuss?"

A chorus of no's could be heard. "Then thank you all for your time. Given the actions of Dumbledore and the Ministry these past few months, it's obvious that we will face more opposition than just Riddle and his Death Eaters. We need to be prepared, and I think that the items we discussed today will help us on that path."

* * *

As Harry climbed out of the trunk and back into the Gryffindor dorm, he paused for a moment to inspect his roommates, ensuring that the other boys were still asleep, before shrinking the trunk and slipping it into his pocket. He hadn't been in Timeland itself, of course, but the access trunk had a small desk that was perfect for meetings like that to ensure that he wasn't overheard discussing his plans.

With a small smile, Harry turned to study the dark room. His time at Hogwarts, while far from perfect, was still very enjoyable. He wasn't sure what awaited him this summer. He hoped that his relatives would still be at least partially under the influence of the Unctuous Unction, making them more kindly disposed toward him. He had already begun brewing more, of course. It would just be a matter of finding a good time to dose them.

He also intended to continue his training, making full use of the opportunities that Timeland allowed him. To that end, he had visited the kitchens, and obtained a shockingly large quantity of food that was being held in status in the time compression vault, freeing him from the necessity of shopping in disguise to get food for himself. He hoped that the elves wouldn't tell Dumbledore, but even if they did, it was unlikely that the headmaster would figure out what he was up to.

Harry suppressed a small smirk. He'd been so irritated last summer when Dumbledore blocked his emancipation, putting the apprenticeship in place instead. But now, it really didn't matter. Harry had plenty of money outside of his Gringotts vault, and skilled adults who were willing to help him. And it was all happening right underneath Albus Dumbledore's overly large nose.

With a sigh, Harry opened his regular trunk and began to pack. Even though Harry tried to stay organized, over the course of the school year, the boys' possessions always got strewn about the room, making it quite a chore to pack them all up for the summer.

After a few minutes of packing, Harry was surprised when one of the other boys woke up.

"You're up already?" Neville asked in disbelief, yawning widely. "It's still early."

"Well, what can I say? I'm excited for summer," Harry replied easily.

"Really?" Neville looked a little surprised. Understandable, given Harry's usual feelings towards being stuck at the Dursleys.

Harry's mouth twisted into a slight smirk. "I've got big plans."

* * *

A/N - Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story. I especially would like to thank all of you who reviewed. I always like to hear what readers think, be it good or bad. I'm doing this to become a better writer, and reviews help.

Harry's adventures will continue in "Harry Potter and the Inquisitor of Hogwarts", with the first chapter being posted next week.


	22. The story continues

Thanks to everyone who has been reading my stories. Book 3, Harry Potter and the Inquisitor of Hogwarts, is now up.

Enjoy!


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